THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Kenneth  Macgowan 


THE  LIE 


By  HENRY  ARTHUR  JONES 
THE  THEATRE  OF  IDEAS 

A  burlesque   allegory  and  three  one-act  plays: 
THE  GOAL;  HER  TONGUE;  and  GRACE  MART. 

THE  FOUNDATIONS  OF  A 
NATIONAL  DRAMA 

containing  lectures  delivered  to  Harvard,  Yale 
and  Columbia  Universities;  at  the  Royal  Insti- 
tution, London;  with  other  lectures,  essays  and 
papers  on  the  Drama,  and  photogravure  por- 
trait of  the  author. 

THE  DIVINE  GIFT 

A  play  in  three  acts,  with  dedication  to  Professor 

GILBERT  MURRAY,  LL.D.,  Regius  Professor  of 

Greek  at  Oxford,  and  photogravure  portrait  of 

the  author. 

THE  LIE 

A  play  in  four  acts,  as  played  by  Miss  Margaret 
Illington. 

OTHER    PLAYS    BY 
HENRY  ARTHUR  JONES 

THE  SILVER  KING  THE  ROGUES  COMEDY 

SAINTS  AND  SINNERS  THE  PHYSICIAN 

THE  MIDDLEMAN  THE  LIARS 

JUDAH  THE  MANOSUVREB  OF 

THE  DANCING  GIRL  JANE 

THE  CRUSADERS  CARNAC  SAHIB 

THE  TEMPTER  MRS.  DANE'S  DEFENCE 

THE  MABQUERADERS  WHITEWASHING  JULIA 

THE  CASE  OF  REBEL-  JOSEPH  ENTANGLED 

LIOUS  SUSAN  THE  HYPOCRITES 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  DOLLY  REFORMING 

PHILISTINES  HERSELF 

MICHAEL  AND  Hra  MARY  GOES  FIRST 

LOST  ANGEL 


The  Lie 


A  PLAY   IN  FOUR   ACTS 


BY 

HENRY  ARTHUR  JONES 

Author  of  "Mrs.  Dane's  Defence,"  "The  Theatre  of  Ideat," 
"The  Divine  Gift,"  etc. 


THE  MARGARET  ILLINGTON 
EDITION  — ILLUS  TRA  TED 


New   York 

George  H.  Doran  Company 


COPYRIGHT,  1915, 
BT  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


DEDICATION 

to 
MISS   MARGARET   ILLINGTON 

DEAR  MABGABET  ISLINGTON: 

The  highest  and  rarest  gift  an  actor  can  possess  is 
that  power  of  sure  and  instant  self-excitement  which  en- 
ables him  suddenly  to  reach  the  great  emotional  scenes  of 
drama  by  a  daring  spontaneous  instinct,  and  to  unite  the 
whole  audience  with  him  in  his  frenzy  of  self-abandon- 
ment. It  is  told  of  our  English  Macready  that  before 
going  on  the  stage  to  act  any  great  passionate  scene, 
he  had  to  work  himself  into  a  fury  at  the  wings,  like  the 
lion  who  could  not  roar  till  he  had  thoroughly  lashed 
himself  with  his  tail.  But  Edmund  Kean's  performances 
in  Othello  and  Richard  were  said  to  be  like  reading 
Shakespeare  by  continuous  flashes  of  lightning  accom- 
panied by  rolls  of  thunder. 

In  asking  you  to  accept  the  dedication  of  "The  Lie," 
I  abdicate  my  authorship  for  the  moment,  and  become 
one  of  the  audience  whom  you  move  every  night  to  such 
tumultuous  response  to  your  splendidly  sustained  out- 
bursts of  emotion.  And  in  printing  the  play  I  give  those 
who  witness  your  acting  the  chance  of  reading  my  words, 
and  comparing  them  with  your  impassioned  utterance. 
They  will  then  be  able  to  judge  how  deeply  indebted  I 
am  to  you  for  your  rendering  of  Elinor  Shale.  In  speak- 
ing of  your  performance  I  am  justified  in  calling  up 
memories  of  the  great  acting  of  the  past.  A  New  York 
paper,  after  seeing  you  in  "The  Lie,"  has  called  you  "The 
American  Sarah  Bernhardt."  Let  me  suggest  that  when 
these  troublous  times  have  gone  by  and  France  again 
resumes  her  sway  in  the  drama — let  me  suggest  that  the 
rising  French  actress  be  called  "The  French  Margaret 
Illington." 

Always  faithfully  and  gratefully  yours, 

Henry  Arthur  Jones. 


572583 


PROGRAM  OF  FIRST  PERFORMANCE 

PRODUCED    AT    THE    HABEIS    THEATBE, 

NEW   YORK,   24TH   DECEMBEB,    1914, 

BY   SELWYN    &    COMPANY 

PERSONS  REPRESENTED 
(In  the  order  of  their  appearance) 

HAMP,  butler  at  Shale  Abbey     .     Mr.  G.  W.  Anson 
Miss    PINSENT,    from    Madame 

Duvernay's  Bond  Street     .     .     Miss  Gladwys  Morris 
GIBBABD,    housemaid    at    Shale 

Abbey Miss  Margaret  Johnson 

SIB  EOBEBT  SHALE,  baronet   of 

Shale  Abbey Mr.  Alfred  Bishop 

ELINOR   SHALE,    grand-daughter 

of  Sir  Kobert Miss  Illington 

GEOBGE Mr.  Stuart  Robson 

GERALD   FOBSTEB,    of   the   Hall, 

Waventry Mr.  Vincent  Serrano 

LUCY    SHALE,    Elinor's   younger 

sister Miss  Violet  Heming 

NOLL  DIBDIN Mr.  C.  Aubrey  Smith 

MRS.  CALLARD Miss  Mildred  Orme 

DICK Master  James  Eagle 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED 

SIR  ROBERT  SHALE,  BART,  of  Shale  Abbey 

NOLL  DIBDIN 

GERALD  FORSTER,  of  the  Hall  Waventry 

HAMP,  Butler  at  the  Abbey 

DICK 

ELINOR  SHALE,  Sir  Eobert's  Granddaughter 

LUCY  SHALE,  her  younger  sister 

Miss  PINSENT,  a  dressmaker 

GIBBARD 

MRS.  CALLARD 


ACT    I 

SCENE:  Drawing  room  at  Shale  Abbey,  a  lofty  room 
in  a  fourteenth  century  building.  At  back  is  a 
large  mullioned  window,  giving  a  view  of  a  north 
midland  landscape  at  sunset  in  Winter.  At  a  dis- 
tance of  about  two  hundred  yards  is  the  Dower 
House,  a  small,  unpretentious  eighteenth  century 
building.  On  the  right  side  centre  is  a  door.  On 
the  left  side  down  stage  is  a  huge  fireplace,  with 
burning  logs  on  the  hearth  between  large  brass 
dogs.  Above  fireplace  left  is  a  handsome  oak 
staircase  leading  off  left.  The  first  four  steps  are 
shown,  and  mount  to  a  landing.  A  door  shuts  off 
the  remaining  steps.  The  walls  of  the  room  are 
weather-stained  and  cracked.  The  room  itself  is 
rather  barely  furnished  with  a  few  pieces  of  hand- 
some old  oak  furniture.  The  time  is  about  four 
on  an  afternoon  in  late  November.  Discover 
HAMP,  dozing  in  a  large  arm-chair  above  the  fire. 
He  is  about  sixty-five,  with  a  coarse,  stirly,  humor- 
ous face  which  gives  evidence  of  drink.  He  is 
slovenly  in  his  dress  and  habits,  and  independent 
in  his  manner  and  speech.  He  is  slightly,  but  not 
very  obviously,  tipsy.  A  bell  is  rung  impatiently 
off  stage.  A  pause  and  the  bell  is  again  rung 
more  impatiently.  Another  pause.  Enter  Miss 
PINSENT  L.  She  is  about  thirty,  very  well  dressed, 

9 


10  THE    LIE 

with  the  manners  of  a  good  class  London  shop 
lady.  She  enters  quickly  and  is  evidently  in  a 
temper. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Oh,  there  you  are.  I've  been  ring- 
ing my  bell  the  last  half  hour. 

HAMP.  [Draws  himself  up  out  of  his  sprawling  at- 
titude, but  does  not  rise.]  You're  one  of  them  folks  as 
want  too  much  attention  in  this  world. 

Miss  PINSENT.  [Looking  at  him  indignantly.]  Is  that 
your  attitude  in  the  presence  of  a  lady? 

HAMP.  No.  This  is  my  attitude  to  young  persons  out 
of  shops. 

Miss  PINSENT.  I'll  have  you  to  know  that  I'm  here 
as  a  visitor,  by  Miss  Shale's  invitation. 

HAMP.  Excuse  me.  You're  here  as  a  dressmaker,  to 
mend  up  Miss  Shale's  dresses,  and  to  make  more  work 
for  Gibbard  and  me. 

Miss  PINSENT.  While  I  am  here,  I  am  a  member  of 
the  family. 

HAMP.  Not  by  lawful  holy  wedlock  in  church.  [Shak- 
ing his  head  at  her.]  Far  from  it! 

Miss  PINSENT.  [Indignantly.]  Oh!  [Goes  to  bell 
and  pulls  it  angrily.]  You've  been  drinking,  I  suppose. 

HAMP.  Now  it's  no  use  you're  asking  me  that.  Be- 
cause not  a  drop  do  you  wheedle  out  of  me.  [She 
again  pulls  the  bell  violently.]  If  you  don't  take  care, 
you'll  break  that  bell-rope,  and  bell-ropes  are  scarce  at 
the  Abbey. 

Miss  PINSENT.  I  will  thank  you  to  keep  your  inso- 
lence to  yourself.  [Still  ringing.  The  bell-rope  comes 
down. 

HAMP.  There!    What  did  I  tell  youf 


THE    LIE  11 

[GiBBARD  enters,  at  door  E.  She  is  nominal- 
ly the  parlour  maid  at  the  Abbey,  but  at 
the  present  moment  is  general  servant 
and  drudge.  She  is  a  country  girl  and  is 
in  working  morning  dress,  with  her  sleeves 
turned  up. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Gibbard,  I've  been  ringing  for  an 
hour. 

GIBBARD.  I've  got  other  things  to  do  beside  wait  on 
you.    There's  all  cook's  work. 

Miss  PINSENT.  My  fire  has  gone  out. 
HAMP.  Got  a  scuttle  of  coals  in  your  pocket,  Gib- 
bard?    The  young  lady  is  afraid  of  getting  chilblains. 
Miss  PINSENT.  I  can't  sit  there  without  a  fire. 
GIBBARD.  I  can't  help  your  fire  going  out,  miss.     I 
haven't  started  with  the  dinner. 

[Exit  GIBBARD  at  door  E. 
HAMP.  There,  you  see! 
Miss    PINSENT.  I've   never   been   in    a    house   like 

this 

HAMP.  No,  and  you  never  will  be  again.     So  you 
make  the  most  of  it  while  you've  got  the  chance. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Is  there  anybody  to  bring  some  coals 
to  my  sitting  room? 

[SiR  ROBERT  SHALE  enters,  E.  He  is  about 
seventy-five,  but  is  sturdy  and  well  pre- 
served, of  the  English  country  gentleman 
type.  He  has,  however,  become  rather 
coarse  in  manners  through  association 
with  his  inferiors.  He  has  a  country, 
weather-beaten  complexion,  which  is 
marred  by  his  drinking  habits.  He  is  by 
turns  jovial  and  irascible,  very  autocratic 


12  THE   LIE 

and  unreasonable.    His  dress  is  rather  old 

and   shabby.     A    foxhound    cub    follows 

him.      HAMP    has    risen    quickly    at    his 

entrance,    before    SIB    ROBERT   perceives 

him.     He  pulls  himself  together  and  his 

manner  changes  and  becomes  respectful. 

Miss  PINSENT.  [Continuing  so  that  SIB  ROBEBT  can 

hear.]  When  Miss  Shale  returns  I  shall  tell  her  of 

your  insolence 

SIB  ROBERT.  What's  the  matter,  Hamp? 
HAMP.  Well,  Sir  Robert,  from  the  way  this  young 
person  orders  the  servants  about,  you'd  think  the  Ab- 
bey belonged  to  her. 

Miss  PINSENT.    I  merely  asked  you  to  take  some 
coals  to  my  sitting  room. 

HAMP.  Ordered  me,  Miss.     And   ordered   me  in  a 
very     haughty,     aggravating     way.       And     pranced 

about 

Miss  PINSENT.  I  did  not  prance. 
HAMP.  [Correcting  her  with  emphasis.]  And  pranced 
about,  Sir  Robert.  [Giving  an  exaggerated  illustra- 
tion.] And  rushes  up  to  the  bell-rope  and  pulls  it  with 
that  violence.  [Picking  up  the  bell-rope  from  the 
floor.]  I  had  to  expostulate  with  her. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Sir  Robert,  I've  been  sitting  there 
without  any  fire. 

SIB  ROBEBT.  We're  all  obliged  to  rough  it  a  little, 
now  we're  short  of  servants.     You  aren't  very  com- 
fortable at  the  Abbey,  Miss  Pinsent? 
Miss  PINSENT.  No,  I'm  not. 

SIB  ROBERT.  You're  like  the  rest  of  us.    We're  none 
of  us  very  comfortable,  are  we,  Pompey? 

[Caressing  the  hound. 


THE    LIE  13 

Miss  PINSENT.  When  Miss  Shale  invited  me  she  said, 
"We  shall  treat  you  as  one  of  ourselves." 

[Horror  on  HAMP'S  face. 

SIR  ROBERT.  That  meant  that  we  should  have  to 
treat  you  to  a  good  many  inconveniences,  eh,  Pompey? 

My  granddaughter  ought  to  have  told  you 

Miss  PINSENT.  She  did.  And  I've  tried  to  make 
myself  agreeable  [HAMP  exhibits  the  bell-rope  to  SIR 
EGBERT  in  comment],  and  fall  in  with  your  ways. 

SIR  ROBERT.  I'm  afraid  that's  difficult  for  a  young 
lady  in  your  position.  We've  been  at  the  Abbey  for 
six  hundred  years,  and  our  ways  take  a  good  deal  of 
falling  into,  don't  they,  Pompey? 

[ELINOR  enters  E.    She  is  about  twenty-four, 
healthy,  good-looking,  but  with  an  anx- 
ious,   unsatisfied   and   slightly   care-worn 
expression.      She    enters    with     outdoor 
clothes,  takes  them  off  as  she  speaks  and 
throws  them  over  chair.     There  is  a  little 
pause  as  she  enters  and  she  looks  around. 
ELINOR.  Is  anything  the  matter? 
Miss  PINSENT.  I  wish  to  go  back  to  London  tomor- 
row, if  you  please. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  Miss  Pinsent,  that's  quite  impossible. 
You  promised  to  stay  till  you'd  made  my  new  evening 
dress.  [Looking  anxiously  at  SIR  ROBERT,  who  is  play- 
ing with  Pompey,  and  then  at  HAMP.]  What  has  hap- 
pened ? 

Miss  PINSENT.  This  man  has  been  grossly  insolent 
to  me. 

HAMP.  Insolent?  The  young  lady  has  done  nothing 
but  ring  her  bell  all  the  afternoon.  Gibbard  and  me 
can't  always  be  dancing  attendance  on  her. 


14  THE    LIE 

Miss  PINSENT.  [Indignantly,]  Oh! 

ELINOR.  Never  mind,  Hamp.  Please  see  about  get- 
ting tea. 

HAMP.  And  when  I  expostulated  with  her,  she  vented 
her  rage  on  the  innocent  bell-rope. 

[Showing  the  bell-rope. 

ELINOR.  I'll  inquire  into  it  by  and  by.  Please  get 
the  tea.  [HAMP  solemnly  deposits  the  bell-rope  on  a 
chair,  glaring  at  Miss  PINSENT  as  he  does  so.  Exit 
HAMP  at  door  R. 

ELINOR.  I'm  so  sorry!  I  know  Hamp  is  dreadfully 
rude. 

Miss  PINSENT.  I'll  finish  your  blouse  to-night,  but 
I  must  leave  the  other  dresses. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  I  can't  hear  of  it !  We'll  do  all  we  can 
to  make  you  comfortable.  Bring  your  work  in  here. 

SIR  ROBERT.  My  dear  Elinor! 

ELINOR.  Yes,  Grandy.  [To  Miss  PINSENT.]  We'll 
make  this  your  workroom  for  the  present. 

Miss  PINSENT.  I'm  sure  I'd  better  go.          [Exit  L. 

SIR  ROBERT.  So  you're  going  to  turn  the  Abbey  into 
a  milliner's  shop? 

ELINOR.  Yes,  for  the  next  few  days. 

SIR  ROBERT.  And  I  suppose  I'm  to  be  the  confound- 
ed shop-walker? 

ELINOR.  Now,  Grandy,  don't  be  naughty!  If  I'm 
to  go  to  the  County  Ball,  I  must  get  an  evening  dress 
from  somewhere. 

SIR  ROBERT.  When  my  clothes  get  shabby,  I  don't 
invite  some  damned  tailor  to  come  and  stay  with  me. 
I  hunt  up  a  new  man.  Can't  you  give  somebody  in. 
Waventry  a  turn  ? 

ELINOR.  They  can't  make  an  evening  dress  in  Wa- 


THE    LIE  15 

ventry.  And  we've  hunted  them  all  too  much.  I  was 
ashamed  to  walk  down  the  High  Street  this  afternoon. 

SIR  EGBERT.  What  did  you  do  about  the  summons 
for  that  confounded  cook's  money? 

ELINOR.  I  paid  it.  And  eleven  shillings  costs.  Then 
I  had  two  and  three  pence  left. 

SIR  ROBERT.  And  she  was  such  a  rotten  bad  cook! 
Sends  us  up  pheasant  without  any  bread  sauce,  and 
then  county-courts  us  for  her  wages.  I  suppose  Hamp 
will  be  the  next  one  to  send  in  an  ultimatum. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  no!  Hamp  will  never  leave  us.  He 
knows  he'd  never  get  another  situation.  And  I  shall 
never  get  another  situation.  [With  great  bitterness. 

SIR  ROBERT.  You'll  get  married  some  day,  I  suppose  ? 

ELINOR.  Get  married?  What  chance  have  I  down 
here?  With  no  money  to  go  about,  and  nothing  to 
make  me  look  nice!  With  bills  owing  everywhere,  and 
everybody  fighting  shy  of  us!  Oh,  my  God,  I'm  shut 
in  here;  I'm  shut  in  this  awful  prison,  and  there's  no 
way  out  of  it! 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Caressing  the  hound  over  the  fire.] 
England  began  to  go  to  decay  in  eighteen-thirty- 
two 

ELINOR.  Oh,  never  mind  England!  It's  I  who  am 
going  to  decay!  It's  I  who  am  wasting  all  my  life  in 
this  hole !  Will  no  one  come  and  take  me  out  of  it — 
buy  me  for  a  slave — or — something — anything — any- 
thing! [Bursts  into  tears  and  sits  crying. 

SIR  ROBERT.  That  was  the  fatal  year  for  England — 
eighteen-thirty-two.  My  old  grandfather  warned  them. 
He  saw  what  was  coming ! 

ELINOR.  Then  why  didn't  he  stop  my  being  born? 
Grandy,  I  can't  bear  this  much  longer.  [With  a  sud- 


16  THE   LIE 

den  revulsion,  laughs  at  herself.]  What's  the  use  of 
saying  that  ?  I've  got  to  bear  it. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Your  Aunt  Kate  ought  to  take  you. 

ELINOR.  She  has  Lucy.  It's  very  good  of  her  to 
have  one  of  us.  But  I'm  sorry  now  that  I  let  Lucy  go. 
I  was  the  elder,  and  Aunt  Kate  did  give  me  the  first 
chance.  I  ought  to  have  taken  it,  but  Lucy  over-per- 
suaded me.  And  I  thought  I  was  doing  a  splendid, 
generous  thing  for  Lucy.  So  I  was.  But  I  was  doing 
a  very  foolish  thing  for  myself.  Self-sacrifice  is  a 
mistake. 

SIR  ROBERT.  By  Jove,  yes!  I've  found  that  out,  all 
my  life. 

ELINOR.  And  Lucy  will  marry  some  rich  man — she's 
clever"  enough. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  why  shouldn't  you?  Why  don't 
you  set  your  cap  at  young  Forster,  now  he's  back  in 
England? 

ELINOR.  Oh,  don't  talk  like  that! 

SIR  ROBERT.  He  seemed  to  take  a  good  deal  of  no- 
tice of  you  at  Lady  Betchworth's  the  other  day. 

ELINOR.  He  said  he'd  call.  That  was  over  a  fort- 
night ago. 

SIR  ROBERT.  He's  like  the  rest.  Looks  down  upon  us 
because  we're  poor.  By  Jove,  yes,  and  there's  that  old 
frump,  Lady  Betchworth!  [Getting  into  a  sudden 
rage.]  I  could  tell  some  tales  about  her  when  she  was 
young.  And  I  will,  too!  I'll  let  everybody  know! 
They're  all  alike!  The  only  one  of  the  whole  set  that 
looks  up  to  me  is  that  little  snivelling  teetotal  curate! 
And  he  began  to  lecture  me.  By  God !  The  little  rab- 
bit began  to  lecture  me !  He  did,  Pompey ! 

ELINOR.  What  about? 


THE   LIE  17 

SIR  ROBERT.  Said  he'd  seen  me  coming  out  of  the 
"Shale  Arms." 

ELINOR.  Well,  I  suppose  he  had. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes.  And  he'll  see  me  again.  Why 
shouldn't  I?  Good  comfortable  old  English  Inn,  and 
my  own  property! 

[ELINOR  looks  at  him,  makes  a  helpless,  de- 
spairing gesture,  then  goes  to  him. 

ELINOR.  Grandy,  this  can't  go  on !  We  must  pull 
ourselves  out  of  it  somehow.  Won't  Cousin  Jack  do 
something? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Not  a  sixpence.  That's  a  pretty  nephew 
for  you.  If  he  was  the  true  English  breed,  he'd  cut 
off  the  entail  and  make  my  old  age  comfortable. 

ELINOR.  We  must  let  the  Abbey. 

SIR  ROBERT.  We  should  get  a  few  hundred  a  year, 
and  all  the  tradespeople  would  be  down  on  us  like 
vultures.  No;  young  Forster  is  our  sheet  anchor. 
We'll  ask  him  to  dinner. 

ELINOR.  We've  no  cook ;  and  if  you  were  to 

SIR  ROBERT.  If  I  what? 

ELINOR.  If  you  took  a  glass  too  much 

SIR  ROBERT.  Glass  too  much!  You're  as  bad  as 
that  little  toad  of  a  curate.  We'll  ask  young  Forster 
to  dinner.  Only  you  must  get  rid  of  your  dressmaker 
friend. 

ELINOR.  Miss  Pinsent  must  stay  till  she  has  made 
my  evening  dress. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Nonsense !  Pack  her  off  and  get  a 
smart  one  from  London.  There's  your  mother's  locket 
and  cross. 

ELINOR.  No.  She  gave  me  them  for  my  daughter — 
if  I  ever  have  one.  I'll  never  part  from  them. 


18  THE    LIE 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Looking  around  at  the  room.]  We'll 
get  rid  of  this  old  rubbish 

ELINOR.  We  have  got  rid  of  it.  If  we  sell  any 
more,  what  will  the  place  look  like? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  young  Forster  is  our  only  chance, 
so  mind  you  play  your  cards  well. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  don't  talk  like  that !  You  make  me  feel 
I'm  trying  to  trap  him.  And  I  think  [Very  softly  and 
tenderly]  I  could  really  care  for  him. 

[Enter  HAMP  with  the  tea  things. 

HAMP.  The  case  of  port  has  just  arrived,  Sir  Robert. 

[Laying  the  tea  things. 

ELINOR.  Port? 

HAMP.  Shall  I  open  it? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes.     We'll  sample  it  for  dinner. 

HAMP.  Yes,  Sir  Robert. 

ELINOR.  Tell  Miss  Pinsent  that  tea  is  ready. 

HAMP.  Yes,  miss.  [Exit  upstairs  L. 

ELINOR.  You've  been  ordering  some  port  wine? 
Where  from  ? 

SIR  ROBERT.  There's  a  new  wine  merchant  just 
started  at  Waventry.  He  sent  me  a  circular,  and  asked 
me  to  give  him  a  trial.  So  I  did. 

ELINOR.  Poor  man!  [Sm  ROBERT  is  going  off, 
followed  by  the  hound.]  You're  going  out? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes,  my  dear.  I  promised  Burton  I'd 
see  him  about  the  new  kennels  for  the  hounds. 

ELINOR.   At  the  "Shale  Anns,"  I  suppose? 

SIR  ROBERT.  I  daresay  I  shall  find  him  somewhere 
about.  [HAMP  has  rcentcred  by  staircase. 

HAMP.  The  young  person  seems  to  be  huffy  about 
my  expostulating  with  her.  She's  packing  her  boxes. 

[Lighting  the  lamps. 


THE    LIE  19 

SIR  ROBERT.  So  we're  going  to  lose  her? 
HAMP.  Yes,  I'm  afraid,  Sir  Robert. 

[Exchanging   a   look   of   understanding   with 

SIR  ROBERT. 

SIR  ROBERT.  I  thought  we  might.  Come  along, 
Pompey. 

[Exit  at  door  with  hound  as  Miss  PINSENT 

comes  downstairs  from  door  L. 
Miss  PINSENT.  I've  thought  it  over,  Miss  Shale,  and 
I'm  sure  I'd  better  leave  to-morrow  morning. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  no !  I  can't  let  you.  Well,  sit  down 
and  have  some  tea  now.  [Miss  PINSENT  sits. 

[HAMP  has  lighted  lamps,  glaring  at  Miss 
PINSENT.  He  now  goes  to  table  and 
picks  up  bell-rope,  glaring  at  Miss  PIN- 
SENT. 

HAMP.  I  suppose  I'd  better  send  into  Waventry  and 
get  a  man  to  put  our  bell-ropes  in  order. 

ELINOR.  Please  take  that  away  and  bring  in  some 
more  logs  for  the  fire. 
HAMP.  Yes,  miss. 

[Goes  out  E.,  glaring  at  Miss  PINSENT. 

ELINOR.  [At  tea  table,  pouring  out  tea.]  Now,  Miss 

Pinsent,  I  shan't  let  you  go.     The  doctor  ordered  you 

a  change,  and  Madame  Duvernay  gave  you  three  weeks 

to  stay  with  us  at  the  Abbey. 

Miss  PINSENT.  You  said  I  should  be  one  of  the 
family. 

ELINOR.  I  think  I  have  treated  you  as  one  of  the 
family,  and  you  mustn't  take  any  notice  of  Sir  Robert 
and  the  servants. 

Miss  PINSENT.  I  really  couldn't  put  up  with  it  for 
another  fortnight. 


20  THE    LIE 

ELINOR.  I've  put  up  with  it  for  a  good  many  years, 
and  I  shall  have  to  put  up  with  it — all  my  life,  I  sup- 
pose. 

Miss  PINSENT.  [Genuinely  sympathetic.]  I'm  so 
sorry  for  you ! 

ELINOR.  Then  won't  you  stay  for  my  sake?  If  you 
don't,  I  can't  go  to  the  County  Ball.  And  I  do  want 
to  look  nice,  just  for  once.  Won't  you  stay?  [very 
pleadingly.]  If  I  asked  you  as  my  friend 

Miss  PINSENT.  [After  a  little  pause.]  Yes,  I  will 
stay. 

ELINOR.  That  is  good  of  you.  Thank  you  so  much ! 
I  think  we  might  start  upon  the  evening  dress  at  once. 

Miss  PINSENT.  You  didn't  decide  which  one  you'd 
have. 

ELINOR.  No;  but  eight  pounds  is  my  very  utmost 
limit. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Then  it  will  have  to  be  the  plain 
gray. 

ELINOR.  Yes,  I  suppose.  How  much  did  you  say 
the  brocade  would  be? 

Miss  PINSENT.  Twelve  pounds. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  I  wish  I  dared!  No;  we  owe  so  much 
money.  It  must  be  the  gray.  It  will  look  very  well? 

Miss  PINSENT.  Oh,  yes!  Of  course,  not  like  the 
brocade. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  if  I No,  no,  no!  That's  settled. 

Now,  after  tea  you  shall  bring  all  your  work  in  here, 
and  we'll  have  a  jolly  evening. 

Miss  PINSENT.  I  hope  Sir  Robert  won't  mind. 

ELINOR.  I'm  afraid  he'll  be  at  the  "Shale  Arms"  till 
dinner.  And  after — he  may  be  very  merry,  or  very 
bad-tempered.  You  mustn't  take  any  notice. 


THE    LIE  21 

Miss  PINSENT.  [Rising  from  tea  table.]  I'll  go  and 
unpack,  and  then  I'll  come  down. 

ELINOR.  Yes,  do.  Bring  the  patterns  of  the  brocade. 
Bring  them  all.  I  can  look  at  them  if  I  can't  afford 
them. 

[Exit  Miss  PINSENT.  Left  alone,  ELINOR 
shows  contentment,  and  poses  as  in  an 
evening  dress,  looking  down  at  the  folds 
of  her  present  dress,  arranging  and  drap- 
ing them.  GIBBARD,  still  in  her  working 
dress,  enters  B.,  with  her  sleeves  turned 
up. 

GIBBARD.  There's  a  gentleman  asking  for  Sir  Robert. 
ELINOR.  What  did  you  say? 

GIBBARD.  I  told  him  Sir  Robert  was  out.  Then  he 
asked  if  you  were  at  home,  and  he  said:  "Will  you 
tell  Miss  Shale  that  Mr.  Forster  has  called?" 

ELINOR.  [Shows  great  vexation.]  Why  didn't  you 
show  him  in?  And,  Gibbard,  when  you  are  in  that 
dress  you  should  let  Hamp  go  to  the  door.  Where  is 
he? 

GIBBARD.  Hamp's  in  the  cellar,  and  give  strict  orders 
he  wasn't  to  be  disturbed. 

ELINOR.  Show  Mr.  Forster  in,  and,  Gibbard,  change 
your  dress  before  you  show  him  out. 

[Exit  GIBBARD  R.     A  few  moments  later  she 
reenters,    showing    in    GERALD    FORSTER. 
GERALD  is  a  rather  tall,  handsome,  dis- 
tinguished man,  about  thirty-five. 
GIBBARD.  Here  is  the  gentleman,  miss.  [Exit. 

GERALD.  How  d'ye  do? 
ELINOR.  How  d'ye  do?     [Shaking  hands.]   You  find 


22  THE    LIE 

us  in  a  muddle  to-day.    We're  short  of  servants.    Do 
please  excuse  it.    Let  me  give  you  some  tea, 

GERALD.  Thanks! 

ELINOR.  I'm  afraid  it's  rather  cold.  Shall  I  ring  for 
some  more? 

GERALD.  No,  please  don't.    I'll  take  it  as  it  is. 

[They  sit  down  to  the  tea  table. 

ELINOR.  I'm  sorry  my  grandfather  is  out,  but  I  dare- 
say he'll  be  back  before  you  go. 

GERALD.  I'm  afraid  I  can't  stay  long.  I'm  motoring 
to  the  junction  to  catch  the  express.  I  oughtn't  to 
have  called  in  such  a  casual  way. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  yes!    Milk?    Sugar? 

GERALD.  Very  little  milk,  and  very  little  sugar. 
When  I  get  back  from  London,  will  you  allow  me  to 
call  again? 

. ELINOR.  Yes;  we  shall  be  pleased.  But  I'm  afraid 
you'll  still  find  us  in  a  muddle,  and  we  shall  still  be 
short  of  servants.  I'm  telling  you  this  because  I'm 
sure  everybody  else  must  have  told  you,  and  you  know 
all  about  us.  So  it's  no  use  trying  to  hide  it. 

GERALD.  I  shall  be  glad  to  come  and  take  you  just 
as  I  find  you  now. 

ELINOR.  Well,  to  do  ourselves  justice,  we  aren't  al- 
ways quite  so  much  upside  down  as  we  are  to-day. 
Sometimes  our  butler  is  in  evidence;  and  sometimes  he 
is  fairly  presentable.  And  sometimes — in  fact,  nearly 
always — we  have  a  cook.  Though  not  often  a  very 
good  one — not  one  we  could  ask  you  to  dinner  upon 

GERALD.  Try  me.  You  don't  know  the  kind  of  din- 
ner I  get  ten  months  of  the  year  in  Egypt. 

ELINOR.  Not  so  bad  as  you'd  get  here.    I'm  telling 


THE    LIE  23 

you  all  this  because  I'm  sure  you've  heard  it  already. 

And  if  you  mean  to  know  us 

[With  an  anxious  glance  at  him. 

GERALD.  Of  course  I  mean  to  know  you.  When  I 
came  back  to  England,  there  was  so  much  to  do  on  my 
estate  I  hadn't  time  to  see  my  neighbours.  I  meant  to 
call  the  day  after  I  saw  you  at  Lady  Betchworth's,  but 
I  had  to  go  up  to  London,  and  I  didn't  get  back  till 
last  night. 

ELINOR.  You're  a  very  busy  person. 

GERALD.  I  am.  There's  my  estate  here — that's  one 
man's  work.  Then  there  are  the  irrigation  works  in 
Egypt — that's  three  men's  work,  at  least. 

ELINOR.  You  haven't  much  time  to  give  to  your 
friends  here,  now  you  are  back  in  England. 

GERALD.  I'm  not  in  England  to  look  after  my  estate. 
I  came  home  to  get  my  plans  passed  by  the  Govern- 
ment. As  soon  as  that's  done,  I'm  off  to  Egypt. 

ELINOR.  For  long? 

GERALD.  I  hope  two  years  will  see  me  through.  Then 
I  shall  come  back  and  settle  down  here  for  good.  I 
don't  know  why  I'm  talking  about  myself. 

ELINOR.  Because  it  interests  me.  Another  cup  of 
tea?  Do  you  spend  much  time  in  Cairo? 

GERALD.  A  month  or  two  sometimes.  Then  six 
months  right  away  in  the  desert. 

ELINOR.  I  should  love  to  go  to  Cairo.  I  should  love 
to  go  anywhere  away  from  the  Abbey. 

GERALD.  Why  don't  you  come  out  next  winter? 
You'd  easily  find  a  chaperon. 

ELINOR.  [Shakes  her  head  sadly.]  But  I  couldn't 
easily  find  any  money.  When  do  you  go  back  to 
Egypt? 


24  THE    LIE 

GERALD.  I've  two  more  months  at  home.  I  leave  on 
the  Thursday  after  the  County  Ball.  You're  sure  to  be 
there? 

ELINOR.  Yes,  indeed!  I'm  seeing  about  my  dress 
already. 

GERALD.  I  should  have  gone  back  earlier,  if  you 
hadn't  spoken  about  the  County  Ball  at  Lady  Betch- 
worth's. 

ELINOR.  [Her  face  lights  up  with  a  rare  flash  of 
pleasure.]  Would  you?  Shall  you  be  down  here  much 
before  you  go  back  to  Egypt? 

GERALD.  That  will  depend  upon  whether  I  get  my 
plans  through  easily.  I  shall  run  down  here  whenever 
I  can  spare  the  time.  [Rising.]  I  hope  I  shall  see 
something  of  you. 

ELINOR.  Yes,  I  hope  so.    You're  not  going? 

GERALD.  I  must  catch  the  express. 

[Looking  at  watch. 

ELINOR.  I'm  sorry  my  grandfather  hasn't  come  in. 

GERALD.  Perhaps  you'd  bring  him  over  to  dine  with 
me  one  night? 

ELINOR.  We  shall  be  pleased. 

GERALD.  I  can  find  him  a  bottle  of  old  port 

ELINOR.  I  hope  you  won't.  I  mean — if  we  are  to 
know  each  other,  it's  better  you  should  understand. 

GERALD.  I  do  understand. 

[Takes  her  hand  very  kindly. 

ELINOR.  Poor  Grandy!    He's  old,  and 

GERALD.  He's  a  century  behind  his  time.  We  mustn't 
blame  him  for  that.  Then  I  shall  see  you  at  the  County 
Ball — and  before? 

ELINOR.  But  you're  down  here  so  little. 


THE    LIE  25 

GERALD.  I  shouldn't  have  come  down  now,  only  I 
promised  you  I'd  call 

ELINOR.  [Her  face  lights  up  again."]  You  didn't 
come  down  on  purpose  to  call  on  me? 

GERALD.  I  had  a  few  other  things  to  do;  but  they 
could  have  waited.  [A  long  pause.]  Au  revoir. 

ELINOR.  I'll  see  you  to  the  door. 

GERALD.  No,  I  won't  let  you.  I've  known  my  way 
about  the  Abbey  since  I  was  a  boy.  [Exit. 

ELINOR.  [Goes  to  the  open  door,  calls  off.]  Gib- 
bard,  please  show  Mr.  Forster  out.  [Comes  down 
with  a  radiant  face,  laughs  a  little,  low,  satisfied  laugh, 
dances  a  few  steps,  pulls  herself  up.]  Don't  be  a 
lunatic!  [Miss  PINSENT  enters  at  door  L.,  with  a 
blouse  nearly  finished  and  several  large  patterns  of 
evening-dress  materials. 

ELINOR.  [Eagerly.]  Miss  Pinsent,  I  will  have  the 
brocade — I'll  go  to  the  twelve  pounds. 

Miss  PINSENT.  I'm  sure  you  won't  regret  it. 

ELINOR.  [Bright,  eager.]  Show  it  to  me  again! 
Show  them  all  to  me  again! 

Miss  PINSENT.  [Displays  the  patterns.]  It's  so  much 
handsomer  than  the  gray! 

ELINOR.  That's  very  handsome.  [As  Miss  PINSENT 
spreads  out  patterns.]  So's  that.  I  wish  I  could  have 
a  dress  of  every  one. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Has  anything  happened? 

ELINOR.  No.    Why? 

Miss  PINSENT.  You  look  so  happy. 

ELINOR.  I  am.  I'm  delighted  to  think  I  shall  look 
nice  for  once  in  my  life. 

Miss  PINSENT.  You  will,  I'm  sure. 


26  THE    LIE 

[LuCY  enters  suddenly  R.  She  is  a  very 
pretty  girl,  a  year  or  two  younger  than 
ELINOR.  Her  manner  now  is  absent  and 
distracted;  ordinarily  she  is  insinuating 
and  pleasing,  but  watchful  and  a  little 
feline.  She  is  exceedingly  well  and  co- 
quettishly  dressed,  in  outdoor  winter 
clothes  with  furs. 
ELINOR.  Lucy!  Lucy,  old  girl!  Why  what — what 

brings [Rushes  up  to  her  and  kisses  her  heartily.] 

I  am  glad There's  nothing  the  matter? 

LUCY.  No. 

ELINOR.  I  thought  you  were  at  Worthing  with  Aunt 
Kate. 

LUCY.  She  has  gone  back  to  London. 
ELINOR.  Why   didn't   you   let   us   know   you   were 
coming  ? 

LUCY.  I  thought  I'd  give  you  a  surprise. 
ELINOR.  Well,  you  have.     I  am  glad.     This  is  my 
friend,  Miss  Pinsent,  from  Madame  Duvernay's.     She 
has   kindly   come  down   here  to  fit  me   out   for  the 
winter. 

LUCY.  How  d'ye  do? 
Miss  PINSENT.  How  d'ye  do? 

ELINOR.  I  was  getting  so  shabby.    You're  sure  noth- 
ing has  happened? 

LUCY.  No.    What  should  there  be? 
ELINOR.  We  haven't  heard  from  you  for  nearly  a 
month. 

LUCY.  I  hate  letter  writing.    So  I  thought  I'd  come 
and  have  a  day  or  two  with  you. 

ELINOR.  I  am  pleased.    Look !    That's  to  be  my  new 
evening  dress.    Don't  you  think  it  will  look  handsome? 


THE   LIE  27 

LUCY.  [Paying  little  attention.]  Very.  I  should 
think  it  would  suit  you. 

ELINOR.  Ah!  You're  used  to  pretty  dresses.  What 
splendid  furs !  And  what  a  pretty  hat ! 

LUCY.  One  must  look  decent. 

ELINOR.  Never  mind.  You'll  see  what  Miss  Pinsent 
is  going  to  make  for  me.  Now,  Miss  Pinsent,  it's  go- 
ing to  look  as  if  it  came  straight  from  Paris? 

Miss  PINSENT.  It  will  be  an  exact  copy  of  one  of 
our  latest  Parisian  models. 

[LucY  makes  a  sign  to  ELINOR  to  get  rid  of 
Miss  PINSENT. 

ELINOR.  Miss  Pinsent,  couldn't  you  write  up  for  the 
materials  to-night?  [Looking  at  writing  table.]  No 
pen  and  ink,  as  usual ! 

Miss  PINSENT.  I  can  write  it  in  my  own  room. 

ELINOR.  Will  you?    And  send  it  off  to-night. 

Miss   PINSENT.  Very   well.     I'll  write  it  at   once. 
[Exit  Miss  PINSENT  by  stairs  L. 

ELINOR.  Thank  you.  [To  LUCY.]  I'm  so  glad  to  see 
you !  Those  furs  are  lovely.  [Looking  at  LUCY.] 
Lucy,  there  is  something  the  matter! 

LUCY.  Nell,  old  girl,  I'm  done  for. 

ELINOR.  Lucy! 

LUCY.  It's  all  over  with  me. 

ELINOR.  How?     Tell  me. 

LUCY.  You  remember  Dick  Tallerton?  [ELINOR  hesi- 
tates.] He  used  to  come  to  Aunt  Kate's  when  you  were 
staying  with  us. 

ELINOR.  Yes.  I  saw  his  death  announced  in  the 
paper  last  week. 

LUCY.  Yes,  he's  dead.    That's  the  awful  thing  of  it. 

ELINOR.  Why? 


28  THE    LIE 

LUCY.  He  was  engaged  to  me. 

ELINOR.  Engaged  to  you?  He  was  engaged  to  Lady 
Willindon's  girl.  He  brought  her  to  Aunt  Kate's. 

LUCY.  He  was  engaged  to  both  of  us.  But  he  would 
have  married  me. 

ELINOR.  You  were  very  fond  of  him? 

LUCY.  I  suppose  I  was. 

ELINOR.  I'm  so  sorry!  It  must  be  a  great  disap- 
pointment. Still,  he  wasn't  quite  the  man  I  should 
have  thought  you'd  choose. 

LUCY.  What  was  the  matter  with  him? 

ELINOR.  Wasn't  he — rather  notorious — and  fast? 

LUCY.  He  was  the  heir.  When  Sir  Thomas  Taller- 
ton  died,  I  should  have  been  Lady  Tallerton,  with 
twenty  thousand  a  year. 

ELINOR.  Yes.  Of  course  you're  very  much  cut  up. 
But  you're  young,  dear — and  pretty.  You'll  get  over 
it  in  time.  I'll  help  you  bear  it,  darling. 

LUCY.  Someone  has  got  to  help  me.  My  God,  it  is 
rotten  luck! 

ELINOR.  I  don't  understand 

LUCY.  He  was  engaged  to  Maud  Willindon 

ELINOR.  Yes? 

LUCY.  They  were  to  be  married  in  the  spring.  He 
daren't  break  it  off.  But  I'd  got  him  right  enough. 

ELINOR.  Tell  me  all. 

LUCY.  Dick  and  I  were  to  get  away  to  Paris  and  be 
married  there.  Then  he  was  to  write  his  people  and 
tell  them.  We  were  to  go  to  some  quiet  place  in  the 
South  and  stay  there  some  months.  Then  we  were  to 
go  to  the  East  and  travel  for  a  year  or  two.  When  we 
came  back  nobody  would  have  asked  when  my  baby 
was  born. 


THE   LIE  29 

ELINOR.  Baby!     [Overwhelmed.]     Lucy!    Lucy! 

LUCY.  Don't  row  me !    I  can't  stand  it. 

ELINOR.  I  won't  row  you,  dear;  but — it's  terrible! 
[Pause.]  Tell  me  everything. 

LUCY.  Three  days  before  we  were  to  start,  Dick  was 
taken  with  typhoid  fever.  It  was  all  over  in  a  week. 
And  to  think — I  should  have  been  safe  by  now — safe 
— with  the  title  and  everything  clear  in  front  of  me. 
And  now!  Did  you  ever  know  such  rotten  luck? 

ELINOR.  I'll  help  you,  dear. 

LUCY.  I  knew  you  would,  old  girl ! 

ELINOR.  What's  to  be  done? 

LUCY.  I  don't  know.  I'm  pretty  sick  of  it.  Once  or 
twice  I've  nearly  ended  it. 

ELINOR.  No,  no !    You  mustn't  talk  like  that. 

LUCY.  It's  awful.  I  can't  sleep,  except  with  the 
morphia. 

ELINOR.  Lucy,  you  haven't  taken  to  that? 

LUCY.  You  find  yourself  in  my  mess,  and  you'd  take 
to  anything. 

ELINOR.  Does  Aunt  Kate  know? 

LUCY.  No.    I  left  her  a  month  ago. 

ELINOR.  Left  her? 

LUCY.  She  was  always  nagging  me  about  my  be- 
havior and  extravagance.  So  we  had  a  big  flare-up  and 
parted. 

ELINOR.  You  shouldn't  have  done  that. 

LUCY.  I  thought  I  was  safe  to  marry  Dick. 

ELINOR.  Where  have  you  been  since  you  left  Aunt 
Kate? 

LUCY.  In  rooms  in  Eastbourne.  Dick  and  his  people 
were  there.  I'd  arranged  everything  to  meet  him  in 
Paris — then  he  sent  me  a  note  to  say  he  was  down 


30  THE    LIE 

with  typhoid.  I've  had  an  awful  time.  I  daren't  call 
on  them — I  couldn't  get  any  news,  till  the  worst  came. 

ELINOR.  Won't  the  Tallertons  help  you? 

LUCY.  They'll  have  to.  I  saw  Sir  Thomas  and  Lady 
Tallerton  last  night  and  told  them  everything. 

ELINOR.  What  did  they  say? 

LUCY.  They  were  furious.  Lady  Tallerton  read  me 
a  sermon,  the  old  hag!  And  Sir  Thomas  rowed  me, 
and  declared  he'd  never  give  me  a  penny. 

ELINOR.  Then  they  won't  do  anything? 

LUCY.  If  they  don't,  I'll  make  a  scandal. 

ELINOR.  You  can't  do  that.  It  would  only  come 
back  on  you. 

LUCY.  I  don't  care!  I'm  ready  to  do  anything.  I 
must  get  some  money  from  somewhere.  I  owe  for  all 
my  clothes. 

ELINOR.  How  much? 

LUCY.  Four  or  five  hundred  pounds. 

ELINOR.  Four  or  five  hundred  pounds! 

LUCY.  I  had  to  have  them.  I  couldn't  have  got 
hold  of  Dick  if  I  hadn't  looked  smarter  than  Maud 
Willindon.  And  I  did  get  hold  of  him. 

ELINOR.  Was  it  worth  while? 

LUCY.  What? 

ELINOR.  If  he  really  loved  you,  wouldn't  he  have 
wanted  to  take  you  honorably? 

LUCY.  You  are  a  dear  fool,  Nell !  You've  lived  down 
here  all  your  life,  and  you've  got  the  silliest  old  no- 
tions. Love  and  honour!  That  sort  of  stuff  doesn't  go 
down  to-day,  Nell.  I  wasn't  going  to  be  companion  to 
Aunt  Kate  all  my  life,  and  dress  on  her  thirty  pounds 
a  year.  I  meant  to  be  Lady  Tallerton,  and  I  took  the 
only  way  to  get  him.  And  I  brought  it  off — only 


THE    LIE  31 

What  rotten  luck !    It's  no  use  talking.    What's  it  like 
here?    Just  the  same,  I  suppose? 

ELINOR.  Yes;  only  rather  worse. 

LUCY.  Grandy? 

ELINOR.  As  usual.  It's  nearly  every  night  now. 
And  he  has  Hamp  to  sit  up  with  him. 

LUCY.  [Looking  at  the  patterns.]  But  you're  having 
a  new  evening  dress. 

ELINOR.  One — in  four  years!  I'm  going  to  the 
County  Ball. 

LUCY.  Quite  right.  Take  what  you  can  get,  and 
enjoy  yourself  while  you're  young.  It's  your  only 
chance. 

ELINOR.  I  daresay  you're  right. 

LUCY.  I  know  I  am.  I  didn't  ask  to  be  brought  into 
this  world.  And  when  I  get  out  of  this  mess  I  mean 
to  have  a  good  time  to  make  up  for  this. 

[GiBBARD  enters  at  door  E. 

GIBBARD.  [To  LUCY.]  The  porter  has  brought  up 
your  trunk  from  the  station,  miss. 

LUCY.  Have  it  taken  up [To  ELINOR.]     Can  I 

sleep  with  you? 

ELINOR.  Yes,  of  course.  Have  the  trunk  taken  to 
my  room,  Gibbard. 

GIBBARD.  Yes,  miss.  [Exit  door  R. 

LUCY.  Thanks.  I  can't  face  the  night  by  myself. 
I  get  the  horrors.  And  then  I  double  the  dose.  Oh,  if 
once  I  get  out  of  this  mess 

ELINOR.  Yes.    We  must  hush  it  up. 

LUCY.  You'll  help  me,  old  girl? 

ELINOR.  You  know  I  will. 

[Kissing  her  very  affectionately. 

LUCY.  The  first  thing  is  money — money — money. 


32  THE   LIE 

ELINOR.  Yes.    It  will  have  to  be  done 

LUCY.  What! 

ELINOR.  Mother's  things.  My  locket  and  cross,  and 
your  rings. 

LUCY.  My  rings  have  gone — long  ago. 

ELINOR.  Lucy !  No,  I  won't  reproach  you.  Mine 
must  go.  They  ought  to  fetch  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds.  That  will  tide  us  over  a  little.  Then  you 
must  get  away  somewhere  till  it's  over. 

LUCY.  You'll  come  with  me? 

ELINOR.  Yes;  but  you  can  stay  on  here  for  the  next 
two  months. 

LUCY.  No;  it  wouldn't  be  safe.  Gibbard  might  sus- 
pect. I  daren't  run  any  risks. 

ELINOR.  Well,  I'll  come  to  you  in  January,  directly 
after  the  County  Ball. 

LUCY.  Couldn't  you  get  out  of  that? 

ELINOR.  No;  I've  promised.  And  I  want  to  be  here 
at  the  Abbey  all  the  time  till  then. 

LUCY.  I  can't  face  it  by  myself  for  two  months. 
You  must  be  with  me,  Nell.  You  must!  There's  no- 
body else. 

ELINOR.  I'll  come  and  see  you  whenever  I  can.  And 
I'll  write  to  you  every  day. 

LUCY.  It's  the  nights — the  dreadful  nights — you 
don't  know — I  shall  go  mad.  Nell,  you  might  give  up 
the  County  Ball. 

ELINOR.  Surely  you  don't  grudge  me  that.  It's  the 
one  little  thing  all  this  year.  You  know  I'd  do  any- 
thing for  you — everything.  I  did  give  up  Aunt  Kate 
and  London. 

LUCY.  And  then  there's  the  expense  of  it.     Your 


THE    LIE  33 

evening  dress  and  so  on.  A  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 
won't  go  far — it  won't  carry  us  over  this. 

ELINOR.  It  must,  somehow.  I  can't  give  up  the 
County  Ball.  Don't  ask  me. 

LUCY.  Very  well.  If  you  don't  come  with  me,  you 
won't  see  me  alive  again  after  I  leave  here. 

ELINOR.  Lucy!    That's  cowardly!    That's  wicked! 

LUCY.  I  know  it  is!  But  I  can't  help  it.  You 
don't  realize — you  don't  know  how  I'm  tempted  every 
night  to  end  it.  I'm  desperate.  I  can't  trust  myself. 
Nell,  I'm  not  threatening.  If  you  don't  come  away 
with  me,  I  shall  do  it  some  night.  I  know  I  shall. 

ELINOR.  Lucy! 

LUCY.  Won't  you  do  it  for  me,  Nell?  I'd  do  it  for 
you.  If  you  don't,  it  will  be  the  last  thing  I  shall  ever 
ask  of  you.  You'll  be  sorry  afterward  that  you  re- 
fused. Nell,  mother  would  wish  you  to  help  me.  You 
know  she  would. 

ELINOR.  [After  a  very  long  pause,  says  very 
quietly.]  Very  well.  I'll  do  it. 

LUCY.  [Hugs  her  heartily.]  Nell,  you  are  an  angel! 
I'll  never  forget  it.  Never! 

ELINOR.  Now  we  must  make  our  plans. 

LUCY.  It's  the  money. 

ELINOR.  The  Tallertons  ought  to  help  you.  They're 
rich  enough.  Was  Sir  Thomas  very  angry? 

LUCY.  Yes.    He  almost  turned  me  out  of  the  house. 

ELINOR.  It  must  have  come  as  a  great  shock  to  them. 
When  they  get  over  it,  they'll  think  better  of  it.  Lucy, 
I'll  go  to  them. 

LUCY.  That  is  good  of  you. 

ELINOR.  I'll  see  Lady  Tallerton.  They  must  make 
some  provision  for  the  child. 


34  THE    LIE 

LUCY.  Yes — perhaps  they'll  listen  to  you. 

ELINOR.  They  shall.    I  won't  leave  them  till  they  do. 

LUCY.  It  must  be  done  at  once.  They're  leaving  for 
Biarritz  on  Monday. 

ELINOR.  I'll  see  them  to-morrow.  They're  at  East- 
bourne T 

LUCY.  Yes.  And,  Nell,  I've  been  thinking  Brighton 
would  be  the  best  place  for  me  to  stay  till  it's  over. 

ELINOR.  It's  close  to  Eastbourne 

LUCY.  Yes,  and  we're  not  likely  to  meet  anyone  we 
know.  If  we  do,  it  won't  be  remarked. 

ELINOR.  Very  well.    It  shall  be  Brighton. 

LUCY.  I've  thought  it  all  out.  I  must  go  as  a  mar- 
ried woman.  My  husband  is  in  India,  and  he  has  sent 
me  home.  We  shall  have  to  change  our  names,  both 
of  us,  and  take  different  ones 

ELINOR.  I  shall  hate  that. 

LUCY.  It  has  got  to  be  done. 

ELINOR.  Yes.  It's  no  use  shirking.  We'll  get  away 
to-morrow. 

LUCY.  What  shall  we  tell  G  randy?  That  someone 
is  at  Brighton  who  will  be  a  good  match  for  me !  Yes, 
and  you  must  come  at  once  and  chaperon  me. 

ELINOR.  Yes,  that  will  do.  And,  afterwards — some- 
one must  take  care  of  the  child. 

LUCY.  That  won't  be  difficult. 

ELINOR.  We  needn't  meet  that  till  it  comes.  Well, 
we've  decided.  We'll  go  to-morrow. 

LUCY.  Oh,  Nell,  you  are  splendid!  I'll  never  for- 
get your  kindness!  [Kissing  her  heartily.] 

ELINOR.  Cheer  up,  old  girl!    I'll  see  you  through  it. 

LUCY.  I  begin  to  feel  the  worst  is  over,  now  I'm  with 


THE    LIE  35 

you.    It  will  be  hushed  up,  and  I  shall  make  a  good 
marriage  by  and  by,  shan't  If 
ELINOR.  Yes,  dear! 

[Enter  SIR  ROBERT  E.  He  has  been  drinking, 
and,  without  being  tipsy,  is  stupidly 
jovial. 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Seeing  LUCY.]  Hillo !  Heigh !  Heigh ! 
Heigh!  What's  this?  Lucy!  Well,  well,  well!  This 
is  a  surprise!  [Kissing  her.]  Come  to  stay  with  us 
and  brighten  the  place  up? 

LUCY.  No,  Grandy.  I've  just  run  down  for  the 
night. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Nonsense!  Shan't  let  you  go!  Nell, 
I've  been  thinking  it  over.  We'll  give  a  big  dinner 
party,  and  we'll  ask  young  Forster  and  Lady  Betch- 
worth,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  upstarts !  We'll  let  them 
see  the  Shales  aren't  played  out  yet.  Lucy,  you've 
eome  down  just  in  time. 

LUCY.  No,  Grandy.  I  must  run  away  again  to- 
morrow. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Shan't  hear  of  it!  Shan't  hear  of  it! 
Let's  take  a  good  look  at  you!  [Admiring  her  dress.] 
Nell,  that's  the  way  to  dress !  She'll  go  off  before  you. 
She  knows  the  way  to  get  a  husband!  I'm  proud  of 
you!  You're  a  credit  to  the  old  family. 

[Drawing  her  to  him  and  kissing  her  again. 
LUCY  submits  with  evident  reluctance,  and 
disengages  herself. 

LUCY.  I'll  run  iipstairs  and  take  my  things  off. 
Come  up  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can,  Nell. 

[Exit  by  stairs  L. 

SIR  ROBERT.  She's  a  credit  to  the  family.  And,  by 
Jove!  We'll  keep  her  here,  now  we've  got  her. 


36  THE    LIE 

ELINOR.  Grandy,  I'm  going  to  take  Lucy  to  Brigh- 
ton to-morrow. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Brighton  ?  Brighton  ?  Brighton  f  What 
for? 

ELINOR.  There's  a  chance  of  her  making  a  good 
match  there. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Good  match !  Heigh !  Heigh !  Heigh ! 
I  knew  she  would!  She  knows  how  to  manage  it. 

[HAMP  enters  E.  with  a  decanter  of  port  wine 
and  wine  glasses. 

HAMP.  I  thought  you'd  like  to  sample  this  before 
dinner,  Sir  Robert. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Right.  Give  me  a  glass.  Good  match, 
eh?  We'll  drink  to  Lucy's  good  match. 

[Enter  Miss  PINSENT  L.,  with  an  open  letter 
in  her  hand. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Will  you  see  if  this  is  right  before  I 
post  it?  [Offering  letter  to  ELINOR. 

ELINOR.  I've  had  to  change  my  plans,  Miss  Pinsent. 
I  shan't  need  an  evening  dress. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Not  need ? 

ELINOR.  I'm  not  going  to  the  ball.  I've  had  an  invi- 
tation to  stay  with  some  friends.  I  must  get  my  dresses 
there. 

Miss  PINSENT.  Then  I  needn't  send  this  ? 

ELINOR.  No — please  don't. 

[Exit  Miss  PINSENT  L.,  a  little  perplexed. 
HAMP  has  poured  out  two  glasses  of  wine. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Take  a  glass  of  this,  Nell,  and  drink  to 
Lucy's  good  match. 

ELINOR.  No,  thank  you. 

SIR  ROBERT.  You  won't  f 

ELINOR.  [More  firmly.]  No,  thank  you! 


THE   LIE  37 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Offended.]  Oh,  very  well!  Hamp,  you 
know  a  glass  of  good  wine.  What's  your  opinion  of 
that? 

[HAMP  takes  a  glass,  SIR  ROBERT  takes  up  the 

other. 

HAMP.  [Drinking.]  A  very  nice  rich  silky  wine,  Sir 
Robert. 

SIR  ROBERT.  To  Lucy's  good  match!  And  "Go  thou 
and  do  likewise!"  [Drinking. 

[ELINOR  takes  no  notice.  She  has  remained 
standing.  She  hardens  her  face,  to  pre- 
vent the  tears.  She  just  turns,  and  sees 
the  pattern  of  rich  dress  material,  her 
hand  falls  on  it,  she  turns  away  her  head. 

CURTAIN 

[Two  and  a  half  years  pass  between  'Acts  I  and  II.] 


ACT  II 

SCENE  :  The  same.  It  is  now  afternoon  in  early  sum- 
mer, with  bright  sunshine  coming  through  the 
open  windows.  The  landscape  outside  is  in  June 
sunshine.  Discover  SIR  ROBERT,  HAMP,  and  GIB- 
BARD.  SIR  ROBERT  is  rather  older  and  shabbier 
than  in  the  first  act.  He  has  on  a  pair  of  very 
old  shabby  boots  covered  with  dust.  HAMP  also 
has  suffered  some  deterioration.  GIBBARD  is  still 
untidy  in  a  morning  dress. 

SIR  ROBERT.  I  don't  believe  it 

HAMP.  Gibbard  will  bear  me  out  in  every  word  I 
say. 

SIR  ROBERT.  But  I'm  not  asking  Gibbard  to  clean  my 

boots [Holding  out  his  foot. 

HAMP.  No,  Sir  Robert.  But  if  Gibbard  has  got  to 
wait  hand  and  foot  on  Miss  Lucy  it  stands  to  reason 
everything  goes  wrong  all  over  the  house. 

GIBBARD.  She  wants  twenty  times  as  much  done  for 
her  as  Miss  Elinor. 

HAMP.  And  what's  the  result?  Who's  the  first  to 
suffer  for  it?  You  are,  Sir  Robert. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Suffer?    By  Jove,  I  do  suffer  1 
HAMP.  We  all  have  to  suffer,  both  in  mind,  body, 
and  estate. 

GIBBARD.  I  should  have  left  the  week  after  she 
came,  only  Miss  Elinor  persuaded  me  to  stay. 

38 


THE   LIE  39 

HAMP.  The  old  place  hasn't  been  the  same  since 
she  came.  I  often  ask  myself  this  question:  "What's 
going  to  happen  next?" 

SIR  ROBERT.  My  boots  are  going  to  get  cleaned. 
That's  what  is  going  to  happen  next,  or  I'll  know  the 
reason  why. 

[Lucr  Ms  entered  L.,  very  well  dressed. 

LUCY.  What's  the  matter? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Everything's  the  matter.  My  guns  are 
never  cleaned.  My  clothes  are  never  brushed.  Elinor 
says  that  Forster  and  his  friend  may  be  dropping  in, 
at  any  moment.  That's  a  pretty  pair  of  boots  for  a 
Shale  of  Shale  Abbey  to  be  seen  in,  isn't  itf 

HAMP.  I'll  go  and  see  if  anything  can  be  done, 
Sir  Robert. 

SIR  ROBERT.  There's  my  old  hunting  kit — turn  out 
the  whole  lot — boots  and  breeches  and  waistcoats  and 
all — we'll  see  if  we  can't  get  a  decent  rig  out  among 
them. 

HAMP.  I  will,  Sir  Robert.  [Exit  HAMP  L. 

LUCY.  Gibbard,  my  room  hasn't  been  tidied 

GIBBARD.  If  you  want  your  room  tidied,  you'll  have 
to  do  it  yourself.  I've  told  Sir  Robert,  and  I'm  going 
to  tell  Miss  Elinor.  [Exit  GIBBARD  E. 

LUCY.  Oh,  these  everlasting  servants!  And  this 
everlasting  mess !  Grandy,  I've  had  just  about  enough 
of  this ! 

SIR  ROBERT.  So  have  I. 

LUCY.  I  mean  to  get  out  of  it. 

SIR  ROBERT.  So  do  I.    But  I'm  hanged  if  I  see  how. 

LUCY.  There's  only  one  way:  I  must  make  a  good 
marriage. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  why  don't  you?    You  were  away 


40  THE    LIE 

at  Brighton  six  months.  Why  didn't  you  pull  it  off 
thenf 

Lucy.  I  told  you — the  man  died. 

SIB  ROBERT.  Well,  you've  been  going  about  to  dif- 
ferent places  ever  since. 

LUCY.  I  haven't  met  with  anybody  suitable.  That's 
the  reason  I  came  back  to  the  Abbey. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Not  much  chance  for  you  here. 

Lucr.  [After  a  little  pause.]  Grandy,  I  think  Mr. 
Forster  likes  me. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Likes  you?  Whenever  he  comes,  he 
seems  to  hang  about  Elinor. 

LUCY.  Nell's  the  elder,  and  of  course  he  pays  her 
the  most  attention — outwardly. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  Elinor  or  you,  so  long  as  he 
makes  up  his  mind.  But  he  has  been  home  two 
months  now,  and  he  doesn't  seem  to  come  to  the 
scratch. 

LUCY.  I  don't  wonder  he  holds  back,  seeing  us  in 
this  wretched  state. 

SIR  ROBERT.  He's  like  the  rest  of  the  young  men  in 
these  days.  One  of  them  holds  back — and  the  other 
dies — there's  no  chivalry  left  in  the  country. 

LUCY.  Grandy,  I've  got  a  plan.  I've  thought  it  all 
out.  You  must  help  me,  and  then  I  can  help  you  and 
Elinor. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Go  on,  my  dear.    What's  your  plan? 

LUCY.  If  Mr.  Forster  stays  on  at  the  Hall,  we  must 
have  an  entire  change  here,  get  some  new  servants,  and 
take  our  place  in  the  country  again. 

SIR  ROBERT.  That's  what  I've  been  saying  for  years. 
But  where's  the  money  to  come  from? 

LUCY.  I  can  manage  a  little,  perhaps 


THE    LIE  41 

SIB  ROBERT.  You?    Where  from? 

LUCY.  Never  mind.  I  can  manage  a  hundred  or 
two,  and  for  the  rest  we  mustn't  be  afraid  to  launch 
out. 

SIB  ROBEBT.  Launch  out?  Just  what  I've  always 
told  Elinor.  Launch  out! 

LUCY.  By  the  time  we  have  to  pay  people,  I  hope  I 
shall  be  safely  married  to  Mr.  Forster. 

SIB  ROBEBT.  Good !  Good !  That's  a  splendid  plan ! 
It  will  take  a  bit  of  managing,  eh? 

LUCY.  Yes;  I  shall  have  to  be  rather  "nippy."  We 
must  find  out  Mr.  Forster's  plans.  If  he's  going  back 
to  Egypt,  I  must  get  out  to  Cairo  for  the  winter. 

SIB  ROBEBT.  Yes.  Capital!  Capital!  And  what's 
to  become  of  me? 

LUCY.  I  shall  take  care  of  you  and  Elinor.  We 
must  try  to  let  the  Abbey — there's  this  friend  of  Mr. 
Forster's  who's  coming  to  look  it  over. 

SIB  ROBEBT.  Yes.  Elinor  says  he  may  drop  in  any 
afternoon.  She  has  just  been  badgering  me  to  trim 
myself  up  a  bit. 

[Looking  at  his  clothes  and  showing  his  boots. 

LUCY.  If  we  could  only  get  this  Mr. — Dibdin,  isn't  it 
— to  take  the  Abbey. 

SIB  ROBERT.  Ah !    There's  another  crying  shame. 

LUCY.  What? 

SIB  ROBEBT.  This  Dibdin  with  his  "Gift  of  Health"; 
makes  a  fortune  out  of  his  quack  medicine  stuff,  and 
then  comes  and  takes  Shale  Abbey  over  our  heads. 

LUCY.  He  hasn't  taken  Shale  Abbey.  Let's  hope  he 
will.  And  he  didn't  make  the  fortune.  His  grand- 
father made  it  for  him. 

SIR   ROBEBT.     Yes;    and    [solemnly]    thank    God, 


42  THE   LIE 

Lucy,  your  grandfather  isn't  that  stamp!  I  didn't 
make  a  fortune  out  of  a  beastly  thirteen  penny-half- 
penny mixture!  And  what's  the  consequence?  I've 
got  to  slouch  about  the  place  like  a  broken-down  game 
keeper.  Look  at  those  boots!  That's  what  England 
does  for  her  sons. 

LUCY.  She'll  have  to  do  a  little  better  than  that  for 
one  of  her  daughters.  Now,  Grandy,  if  this  Mr.  Dibdin 
takes  the  Abbey,  we  must  make  it  a  condition  that  he 
does  up  the  Dower  House  for  you  and  Elinor. 

SIR  ROBERT.  That's  a  good  idea.  By  Jove,  yes — 
I  must  have  somewhere  to  spend  my  old  age  in!  Yes, 
and  do  it  up  comfortably,  too ! 

LUCY.  Now,  Grandy,  you  must  do  all  you  can  to  get 
me  married  to  Mr.  Forster. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes — what? 

LUCY.  [Fondling  him.]  You  might  mention  to  him 
what  a  bright,  helpful  little  creature  I  am  about  the 
house,  and  how  thoughtful  and  kind  I  am  to  you  and 
Elinor. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes,  yes,  I  will !    I'll  lay  it  on  thick. 

LUCY.  No,  not  too  thick.  Though  it's  quite  true. 
You  know,  Grandy,  if  I  do  marry  Mr.  Forster,  I  mean* 
to  be  a  real  fairy  godmother  to  you  and  Elinor. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes,  of  course  you  can — a  real  fairy 
godmother. 

LUCY.  And,  Grandy,  don't  say  anything  to  Elinor 
about  Mr.  Forster  and  me,  except  that  you  think  he 

likes  me Hush! 

[ELINOR  enters  JR.      She  is  plainly  dressed, 
not  as  well  as  LUCY. 

ELINOR.  Lucy,  what  have  you  been  saying  to  Gib- 
bard?  She  has  given  me  notice. 


THE    LIE  43 

LUCY.  That's  a  relief. 

ELINOR.  Relief!  Gibbard  is  our  only  stand-by.  If 
she  goes,  we  shall  have  to  turn  charwomen. 

SIR   ROBERT.  By    Jove,    yes [Looking   at    his 

clothes.]    I  only  want  an  apron  and  a  pair  of  clogs  to 
make  a  perfect  picture  of  me. 

LUCY.  Hamp  had  better  go  with  her. 

ELINOR.  But  we  owe  them  wages. 

LUCY.  We  must  pay  them. 

ELINOR.  There's  more  than  a  year  due  to  Gibbard. 

LUCY.  And  Hamp? 

ELINOR.  I  don't  know.  It's  so  long  since  we  settled 
his  account. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Hamp  settles  his  account  as  he  goes 
along — in  liquor. 

LUCY.  Then  I  should  think  he's  a  good  many  years 
on  the  right  side. 

SIR  ROBERT.  He  takes  good  care  of  that.  He  had 
more  than  half  that  last  dozen  of  whiskey. 

[Enter  HAMP  L. 

HAMP.  I've  laid  them  all  out,  Sir  Robert.  I  think 
you'll  manage  a  tidyish  turnout  among  'em.  There's 
three  or  four  very  showy  wescots. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Waistcoats!  It's  the  confounded  boots 
that  never  will  turn  up. 

HAMP.  There's  the  pair  of  big  felt  shoes,  Sir  Rob- 
ert, that  you  wore  when  you  had  the  gout. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Let's  have  a  look  at  them. 

[Exit  HAMP  L. 

SIR  ROBERT.  I'll  go  and  see  what  I  can  do  in  the 
way  of  a  rig-out.  [To  LUCY.]  You  talk  to  Elinor. 
Make  her  see  we've  got  to  launch  out. 

[Exit  SIR  ROBERT  L. 


44  THE    LIE 

ELINOR.  Launch  out? 

LUCY.  Yes,  you  dear  old  thing!  "We've  got  to  make 
a  fight  now,  or  go  under  forever. 

ELINOR.  If  I  hadn't  made  a  fight,  we  should  have 
gone  under  long  ago. 

LUCY.  Well,  pull  yourself  together,  old  girl,  for  one 
final  struggle.  "We  must  have  some  new  servants.  I'm 
glad  Gibbard  is  going 

ELINOR.  She  isn't.    I've  made  her  promise  to  stay. 

LUCY.  That's  a  pity.  We  must  get  a  new  smart 
parlor  maid  and  butler. 

ELINOR.  Where's  the  money  to  come  from? 

LUCY.  Perhaps  this  Mr.  Dibdin  may  take  the  Abbey. 
If  not,  we  must  draw  on  my  four  hundred  a  year. 

ELINOR.  We  have  drawn  on  it.  The  next  year  is 
already  gone. 

LUCY.  The  Tallertons  must  pay  another  year  in  ad- 
vance. 

ELINOR.  You  know  they  won't.  Sir  Thomas  said 
he'd  never  do  it  again. 

LUCY.  He  must  do  it.  It's  for  his  own  grandson. 
Nell,  won't  you  write  him  a  very  nice  letter  and  say 
that  Dick  is  growing,  and  we  want  to  bring  him  up  as 
he  would  wish — for  his  father's  sake — you  know  how 
to  put  it. 

ELINOR.  I  can't  do  it,  Lucy.  It  isn't  fair  to  the 
Tallertons.  They've  behaved  very  generously. 

LUCY.  Generously!  Four  hundred  a  year!  My  boy 
would  have  had  his  twenty  thousand  a  year  if  his 
father  had  lived  a  month  longer.  .  The  cursed  luck 
of  it! 

ELINOR.  It's  no  use  dwelling  on  that.  It's  lucky 
you've  come  out  of  it  so  well,  and  without  anyone  sus- 


THE    LIE  45 

pecting.  You're  clear  now  for  the  future — except  for 
Dick. 

LUCY.  Except  for  Dick. 

ELINOR.  You  don't  wish  now  that  he  hadn't  come? 

LUCY.  No,  no!    He  is  a  dear,  isn't  he? 

ELINOR.  Yes.  Lucy,  I  wish  we  could  have  him  here 
sometimes. 

LUCY.  Have  him  here? 

ELINOR.  Mrs.  Callard  could  take  rooms  at  Waventry 
and  bring  him  over. 

LUCY.  It  wouldn't  be  safe. 

ELINOR.  Nobody  knows  he  isn't  her  child.  We  can 
trust  her  thoroughly.  I  long  to  see  him  again. 

LUCY.  And  don't  you  think  I  do?  I'm  going  to 
Brighton  the  first  chance  I  get. 

ELINOR.  Yes.    I'll  come  with  you. 

LUCY.  [Jealously.]  Nell,  you  mustn't  steal  his  heart 
away  from  me. 

ELINOR.  You  know  I  wouldn't  do  that. 

LUCY.  I'll  go  to  Brighton  next  week.  We  mustn't 
risk  bringing  him  here.  I  must  be  careful.  Espe- 
cially just  now. 

ELINOR.  Why  just  now? 

LUCY.  [Watching  ELINOR  very  closely.]  Nell,  you 
haven't  noticed — or  guessed  anything? 

ELINOR.  No.    What? 

LUCY.  I  wouldn't  mention  it  to  anyone  but  you. 
[Throwing  her  arms  around  ELINOR'S  neck.]  Nell,  I 
believe  Mr.  Forster  likes  me.  [ELINOR  rises,  startled, 
she  withdraws  from  LUCY'S  embrace.]  You  haven't 
noticed? 

ELINOR.  No.    What  makes  you  think  that? 

LUCY.  Only  his  manner  when  I'm  alone  with  him. 


46  THE   LIE 

ELINOR.  Have  you  been  much  alone  with  him? 

LUCY.  Several  times.  Why  do  you  question  me  in 
that  tone? 

ELINOR.  Nothing.    Has  he  said  anything  to  you? 

LUCY.  Not  directly.  But  of  course  a  woman  always 
guesses 

ELINOR.  And  you  guess What  makes  you  guess? 

LUCY.  Nell,  you  aren't  jealous? 

ELINOR.  No.  But  you  remember  what  I  told  you 
about  the  County  Ball? 

LUCY.  That  was  over  two  years  ago.  Has  he  said 
anything  to  you  since  he  came  home? 

ELINOR.  He  hasn't  actually  spoken,  but Oh, 

don't  let's  say  anything  more  about  it! 

LUCY.  Of  course,  darling,  if  it  is  really  you,  I  should 

be  pleased  for  your  sake — though [Beginning  to 

cry.]  I  really  have  grown  to  love  him,  Nell.  I  can't 
help  it — but  I  do.  And  you  always  said  that  if  a  man 
really  loved  me  he  would  forgive. 

ELINOR.  He  can't  very  well  forgive  unless  he  knows. 

LUCY.  Of  course  I  shall  tell  him.  Nell,  you'll  never 
breathe  a  word  to  him? 

ELINOR.  You  can  ask  me  that? 

LUCY.  No,  of  course  not.  We'll  say  no  more.  We 
may  both  be  mistaken.  He's  not  likely  to  think  much 
of  either  of  us  while  we're  in  this  muddle.  For  both 
our  sakes,  we  must  do  up  this  hole,  and  get  some  smart 
servants. 

ELINOR.  We  mustn't  go  any  further  into  debt.  You 
haven't  sent  Mrs.  Callard  the  last  month's  payment 
for  Dick. 

LUCY.  Oh,  don't  keep  on  nagging  me  about  that. 


THE    LIE  47 

You  might  remember  that  it's  my  four  hundred  a  year 
that  keeps  us  going 

ELINOR.  I  don't  forget.  But  we  are  so  terribly  in 
debt. 

LUCY.  So's  everybody  else  that  I've  ever  met.  You 
dear  old  thing,  you  are  so  hopelessly  old  fashioned,  so 
hopelessly  out  of  it ! 

ELINOR.  [With  quiet  bitterness.]  I  wasn't  out  of  it 
when  I  went  to  Brighton  with  you,  and  begged  Sir 
Thomas  to  make  some  provision  for  you,  and  never 
left  him  till  I  got  it.  I  wasn't  out  of  it  then. 

LUCT.  No,  you  darling!  [Again  embracing  her.] 
And  I  shall  never  forget  it. 

[Enter  GIBBARD  R.}  with  a  note  on  tray. 

GIBBARD.  Mr.  Forster's  showfer  has  brought  this  for 
you.  [Handing  note. 

ELINOR.  Mr.  Forster's  chauffeur?       [Opening  note. 

GIBBARD.  Mr.  Forster  and  another  gentleman  have 
just  motored  up,  miss.  They're  at  the  Dower  House. 

ELINOR.  [Having  glanced  at  note.]  Ask  the  chauf- 
feur to  say  we  shall  be  pleased  to  see  Mr.  Forster  and 
Mr.  Dibdin.  And  tell  Sir  Robert  that  Mr.  Forster  is 
here. 

GIBBARD.  Yes,  miss. 

ELINOR.  Then  please  come  back  to  me. 

GIBBARD.  Yes,  miss.  [Exit  E. 

LUCY.  Then  they're  here! 

ELINOR.  Yes.  Of  course  they've  come  to  look  over 
the  house  the  very  day  everything  is  upset. 

LUCY.  And  I'm  looking  such  a  fright.  I  must  change 
my  dress. 

[Enter   SIR   ROBERT.       He   has   changed  his 
dress.    He  wears  light-colored  thick  tweed 


48  THE    LIE 

trousers,  an  old  fancy  hunting  waistcoat, 
and  an  old  black  velvet  dinner  jacket. 
He  has  put  on  the  black  felt  shoes,  which 
are  much  too  large. 

SIR  ROBERT.  I  see  Forster  has  just  motored  past  the 
lodge. 

ELINOR.  Yes;  he  and  his  friend  are  at  the  Dower 
House.  [To  LUCY,  who  is  going  off.]  Lucy,  you'll 
help  us  get  the  place  straight. 

LUCY.  Yes.     I'll  see  to  my  own  room. 

[Exit  at  door  L. 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Exhibiting  himself  to  ELINOR.]  Well, 
how's  this?  Not  so  bad,  eh?  Except  the  damned 
shoes! 

ELINOR.  You  do  look  a  perfect  picture! 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  it  will  have  to  do.  Now,  Elinor, 
if  this  patent-medicine  fellow  does  take  a  fancy  to  the 
place,  he'll  have  to  pay  a  biggish  rent,  and  he'll  have 
to  do  up  the  Dower  House  for  us  to  live  in. 

ELINOR.  Let's  be  thankful  if  we  can  get  a  fair  rent. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Fair  rent!  For  Shale  Abbey!  With 
all  its  associations.  And  to  a  confounded  thirteen 
penny-ha'penny  mixture  man ! 

ELINOR.  Mr.  Dibdin  is  an  Oxford  man,  and  I  sup- 
pose he  is  a  gentleman. 

SIR  ROBERT.  It  takes  three  generations  to  make  a 
gentleman.  It  took  twenty  generations  to  make  us. 

ELINOR.  What  a  waste  of  time!          [Enter  HAMP  L. 

ELINOR.  Hamp,  a  gentleman  is  coming  to  look  over 
the  Abbey.  We  must  make  haste  and  get  it  tidy. 

HAMP.  There's  no  time  for  that,  miss.  The  gentle- 
men are  now  coming  up  the  lawn. 

ELINOR.  [Looking  out  of  window.]  Yes.     Grandy, 


THE   LIE  49 

go  out  and  meet  them,  and  keep  them  talking  until 
we  can  get  the  place  straight.  [Glancing  out  of  win- 
dow.] Make  haste!  They're  coming! 

SIB  ROBERT.  [Hurries  to  door,  stops,  looks  down  at 
his  shoes,  is  struck  with  an  idea.]  Where's  that  old  big 
stick  of  mine?  I  think  I'll  have  the  gout  again. 

[Hurries  off. 

ELINOR.  Now,  Hamp,  please  help  me.  This  Mr.  Dib- 
din  may  take  the  Abbey. 

HAMP.  And  what's  to  become  of  the  family? 
ELINOR.  We  shall  get  another  house,  and  take  you 
with  us.     Now  please  go  upstairs  and  see  that  Sir 
Robert's  room  is  tidy. 

HAMP.  It  will  be  a  rush.  But  I'll  put  my  shoulders 
to  the  wheel. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  do,  for  once!  [Exit  HAMP  L. 

[GERALD  FORSTER  strolls  up  to  the  window, 

outside. 

GERALD.  [Through  the  window.]  How  d'ye  do? 
ELINOR.   [Shakes  GERALD'S  hand.]  How  d'ye  do? 
GERALD.  May  I  come  in? 
ELINOR.  Yes;  do. 

[GERALD  disappears  from  window.  Left  alone, 
ELINOR  puts  one  or  two  things  straight 
about  the  room,  then  stands  in  pleased 
expectancy  looking  at  the  door.  GERALD 
enters  right. 

GERALD.  [Shaking  hands.]  I  hope  our  call  is  quite 
convenient. 

ELINOR.  Oh,  quite! 

GERALD.  I've  left  my  friend,  Noll  Dibdin,  looking 
around  the  Dower  House  with  Sir  Robert. 


50  THE    LIE 

ELINOR.  I  hope  Mr.  Dibdin  will  take  a  fancy  to  the 
Abbey. 

GERALD.  Noll's  rather  a  casual,  uncertain  fellow. 
Nobody  knows  exactly  who  or  what  he  will  take  a  fancy 
to.  But  I  hope  he'll  settle  down  here  close  to  me. 

ELINOR.  Then  you  do  think  of  settling  down  at  the 
Hall? 

GERALD.  I  should  like  to.  But  the  Government  is 
pressing  me  to  go  back  to  Egypt  and  look  after  the 
construction  of  the  other  dam. 

ELINOR.  You've  done  some  splendid  work  out  there, 
the  papers  say. 

GERALD.  Do  they?  I'm  fond  of  the  work.  I  want  to 
see  it  through,  so  that  when  it's  finished  I  can  say: 
"That  was  my  little  job  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  I've 
done  it,  and,  by  Jove,  I've  done  it  rather  well !" 

ELINOR.  But  the  papers  said  the  dam  was  finished 
and  working  magnificently. 

GERALD.  That  was  the  big  job  with  all  the  kudos  to 
it.  This  other  is  going  to  be  a  nasty,  ticklish  business, 
which  may  plague  us  for  years,  and  then  beat  us  in  the 
end.  But  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  letting  it  beat 
me.  Do  you  think  I  ought  to  go  out? 

ELINOR.  [Her  face  lighting  up  with  pleasure.]  I? 
How  can  I  tell?  Do  you  think  you  ought  to  go? 

GERALD.  Yes,  I  ought. 

ELINOR.  Then  go. 

GERALD.  But  I  ought  to  stay  here  in  England. 

ELINOR.  Then  stay. 

GERALD.  There's  my  estate  here — I've  had  to  neg- 
lect it  all  these  years.  [Approaching  her  tenderly,] 
Shall  I  stay? 

ELINOR.  Why  do  you  ask  me? 


THE    LIE  51 

GERALD.  I  won't  for  the  moment.  I'll  ask  you  some- 
thing else.  Why  didn't  you  keep  your  promise  to  me 
to  come  to  the  County  Ball? 

ELINOR.  I  wrote  you.  The  moment  after  you  left 
me  that  day  I  received  a  pressing  invitation  to  go  to 
some  people 

GERALD.  In  England?    I've  no  right  to  ask 

ELINOR.  It  was  at  Brighton. 

GERALD.  Was  it  so  very  pressing? 

ELINOR.  Yes.    I  was  obliged  to  go. 

GERALD.  But  if  you  were  at  Brighton,  you  could 
surely  have  come  home  for  the  ball. 

ELINOR.  [Embarrassed.]  I  couldn't  get  away  just 
then.  I  should  have  written  to  you  again,  but  I  saw 
in  the  papers  you'd  gone  back  to  Egypt. 

GERALD.  I  was  only  staying  in  England  because 
you'd  promised  to  come  to  the  County  Ball.  When 
you  wrote  me  you  couldn't  come,  I  left  for  Egypt  the 
next  day. 

ELINOR.  You  must  have  thought  it  very  strange  of 
me. 

GERALD.  I  did.  I  should  have  come  back  last  year 
to  ask  you  the  reason,  and  to  ask  you  another  ques- 
tion. But  I  was  nailed  to  my  work,  and  I  didn't  know 
whether 

ELINOR.  Whether ? 

GERALD.  [Very  tenderly.]  Whether  it  would  be  any 
use — my  coming.  Would  it  have  been? 

[Voices   of   SIR   ROBERT   and   NOLL   DIBDIN 
heard  outside. 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Opening  door  JR.]  We  shall  find  them 
in  here,  I  expect. 


52  THE    LIE 

[OLIVER  DIBDIN  enters.  NOLL  DIBDIN  is 
rather  over  thirty,  with  humorous,  irreg- 
ular features  and  a  careless,  mocking 
manner;  well  dressed  in  a  slovenly  way; 
very  careless  and  easy-going.  SIR  ROBERT 
hobbles  after  him  with  a  stick  and  a  pre- 
tended attack  of  gout. 

SIR  ROBERT.  This  is  my  granddaughter,  Elinor.  Mr. 
Dibdin,  my  dear. 

ELINOR.  [Coming  forward,  offering  hand.]  How 
d'ye  do? 

NOLL.  [As  he  comes  forward,  has  a  start  of  recog- 
nition and  a  momentary  hesitation,  which  ELINOR  and 
GERALD  notice.]  Excuse  me.  [Shaking  hands.]  For 
the  moment  I  thought  we  had  met. 

ELINOR.  [Looking  at  him  frankly.]  I  don't  think  so. 
NOLL.  No,  I  see  I  was  mistaken. 

[At  times  during  the  scene  he  steals  a  furtive 

look  at  her. 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Hobbling  on  his  stick.]  This  is  the 
drawing-room — used  to  be  part  of  the  old  hall.  It's 
like  all  the  rest  of  the  place,  tumbling  to  pieces.  We 
don't  attempt  to  disguise  it. 

ELINOR.  [To  NOLL.]  No.  It  wouldn't  be  much  use, 
would  it? 

.  SIR   ROBERT.  But   its   proportions   are   noble — very 
noble.    Sit  down,  Mr.  Dibdin.    Oh !    Oh !    Oh ! 

[With  pretended  twinges  of  gout. 

NOLL.  I'm  sure  your  gout  is  paining  you,  Sir  Robert. 

-SiR  ROBERT.  No,   no.     It's   the   nuisance   of   being 

obliged  to  shuffle  about  the  place  in  a  pair  of  shoes 

like  these.     [Has  another  twinge.]     Oh!     This  is  my 

legacy  from  a  long  line  of  hard-drinking  Shales.   They 


:r  cs 

C    £ 
co    S 


THE    LIE  53 

didn't  leave  me  much  else.    You've  been  luckier  in  the 
way  of  legacies  than  I  have,  Mr.  Dibdin. 

NOLL.  I  wouldn't  say  that,  Sir  Robert.  My  grand- 
father decimated  the  English  people,  mowed  them  down 
by  their  thousands,  and  swindled  them  out  of  three 
hundred  thousand  pounds  by  what  he  cruelly  and  satiri- 
cally called  his  "Gift  of  Health." 

[ELIKOB  shows  surprise. 

GERALD.  [To  her.]  You  mustn't  take  the  least  no- 
tice of  Dibdin.  When  he  means  anything  at  all,  he 
means  just  the  opposite  of  what  he  says. 

NOLL.  My  dear  Gerald,  I  maintain  that  Dibdin's 
"Gift  of  Health"  was  the  most  devastating  scourge 
ever  concocted  by  a  patent-medicine  quack,  who  knew 
nothing  of  the  human  machine,  and  less  of  the  poison- 
ous drugs  he  was  putting  into  it. 

SIR  ROBERT.  He  did  very  well  out  of  it. 

NOLL.  Yes,  that's  the  cause  of  my  remorse. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Remorse? 

NOLL.  I  calculate  that  Dibdin's  "Gift  of  Health" 
depopulated  the  British  Empire  to  the  extent  of  a 
city  the  size  of  Bristol.  Wouldn't  you  feel  conscience- 
stricken  if  you  had  thoughtlessly  accepted  a  legacy 
made  in  that  way? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  I  should  certainly  feel  uncom- 
fortable. 

NOLL.  It's  true  that  many  of  those  whom  we — a — 
removed  probably  deserved  to  be  killed.  [ELINOR 
looks  at  him  in  astonishment,  and  turns  to  GERALD.] 
And  some  of  them  may  have  gone  to  a  better  world. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Let's  hope  so ! 

NOLL.  Let's  hope  so!    God  help  'em  if  they  haven't! 

GERALD.  [Explains  to  ELINOR.]  All  this  means  that 


54  THE    LIE 

Dibdin  is  quietly  doing  no  end  of  good  in  the  world 
and  enjoying  himself  in  doing  it. 

NOLL.  I  beg  pardon,  my  dear  Gerald,  my  remorse  is 
quite  as  excruciating  as  Sir  Robert's  gout. 

[Looking  fixedly  at  ELINOR,  whom  he  has  been 
quietly  observing  all  the  while.  SIR 
ROBERT  groans. 

ELINOR.  I  hope  it  doesn't  affect  your  appetite. 

NOLL.  Happily  no.  And  if  I  can  only  get  rid  of 
some  part  of  my  ill-gotten  gains — not  too  much — say 
a  hundred  thousand  pounds  or  so 

ELINOR.  That  oughtn't  to  be  difficult 

SIR  ROBERT.  By  Jove,  no!  Are  you  making  any 
considerable  stay  down  here? 

NOLL.  I  don't  know.  This  might  be  a  nice  secluded 
spot  to  mature  my  plans.  There's  the  old  English 
landscape,  which  my  father  disfigured  with  hideous  red 
and  yellow  advertisements 

SIR  ROBERT.  They  used  to  be  all  along  our  railway 
line  to  Waventry. 

NOLL.  Then  I  owe  the  landscape  some  reparation. 
One  of  my  pet  schemes  is  to  add  a  little  beauty  to  the 
countryside  by  piously  restoring  some  of  our  old  man- 
sions and  Abbeys. 

SIR  ROBERT.  That's  a  good  idea!  I'm  very  struck 
with  that.  Now,  Elinor,  can't  we  take  Mr.  Dibdin 
around  ? 

ELINOR.  [With  a  meaning  look  at  SIR  ROBERT.] 
Will  you  show  Mr.  Dibdin  the  stables  and  I'll  see  if  the 
upstairs  rooms  are  ready? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes.  And  Lucy  shall  entertain  Forster 
the  while.  Where  is  she — where's  my  little  fairy  god- 
mother? I'll  see  where  she  is.  Lucy! 


THE    LIE  55 

[Hurrying  to  stairs,  forgets  his  stick  and  his 
pretended  gout;  suddenly  remembers  it, 
stops,  groans;  NOLL  gives  him  stick;  he 
hobbles  off  L.  with  twinges  and  groans  to 
the  door. 

ELINOR.  I'll  see  if  the  upstairs  rooms  are  ready.  We 
want  you  to  see  the  Abbey  at  its  best. 

NOLL.  But  if  I  am  to  take  it,  I  must  have  it  at  its 
worst,  so  as  to  give  full  scope  to  my  mania  for  pious 
restoration.  I  hope  you  have  a  haunted  chamber. 

ELINOR.  I'm  afraid  not.  Though  the  Shale  of  Henry 
the  Eighth's  time  was  murdered  by  his  cousin  in  Lucy's 
room. 

NOLL.  And  he  doesn't  haunt  it  ?  Disown  him  for 
an  ancestor.  Any  subterranean  passages? 

ELINOR.  Not  a  yard  of  one.  And  not  a  single  secret 
panel. 

NOLL.  [Shakes  his  head  disapprovingly.]  I  wanted 
an  old  place  with  all  the  medieval  apparatus  in  full 

creaking  order 

ELINOR.  If  you'll  wait  a  few  minutes,  I'll  try  and 

summon  up  a  few  ancient  bogies [Exit  L. 

[NOLL  has  watched  her  off,  and  remains  stand- 
ing. 

GERALD.  Why  did  you  watch  Miss  Shale  so  closely 
all  the  time? 

NOLL.  Did  I?    It  was  very  rude  of  me. 

GERALD.  You  have  really  met  her? 

NOLL.  No. 

GERALD.  No? 

NOLL.  I  think  not.    What  does  it  matter  if  I  have? 

GERALD.  Then  you  have?    Tell  me! 

NOLL.  It's  not  worth  mentioning. 


56  THE    LIE 

GERALD.  Then  why  not  tell  me?    [A  longish  pause.] 

You  won't? 

. 

NOLL.  Oh,  these  girls  are  your  neighbours — you'll  be 
constantly  meeting  them 

GERALD.  What  of  that?  Why  shouldn't  I?  You've 
raised  my  curiosity.  Aren't  you  going  to  satisfy  it? 

NOLL.  No. 

GERALD.  Noll,  don't  make  a  mystery  of  it.  Tell  me. 
I  ask  you  as  my  oldest  friend. 

NOLL.  Two  years  ago  last  April  I  was  staying  at 
Brighton  with  my  old  friend,  Doctor  Denby  Rodd. 

GERALD.  Two  years  ago  last  April? 

NOLL.  Yes.  Denby  Rodd  has  one  of  the  largest  prac- 
tices in  Brighton.  He  manages  my  Children's  Con- 
valescent Home  on  the  Downs.  When  we  were  on  the 
front  one  day,  we  met  a  rather  striking  girL 

GERALD.  Miss  Shale? 

NOLL.  Yes.  Rodd  stopped  to  speak  to  her,  and  when 
he  came  back  he  said :  "That's  rather  a  curious  story." 
I  asked  him  what  it  was,  but  he  wouldn't  tell  me.  The 
next  day  I  was  coming  away,  and  he  saw  me  off  at  the 
station.  There  was  the  same  girl  on  the  platform. 

GERALD.  Miss  Shale? 

NOLL.  Yes.  He  spoke  to  her  again.  Apparently 
she  was  in  some  distress.  She'd  lost  her  luggage,  and 
a  nurse,  and  a  sister,  and  a  baby. 

GERALD.  Baby? 

NOLL.  Yes.  Rodd  went  to  make  inquiries  for  her. 
She  didn't  notice  me.  Meantime,  the  sister  and  nurse 
and  baby  came  up.  They'd  got  into  the  wrong  train. 
Rodd  put  them  right,  and  saw  them  off.  When  he 
came  back,  he  said:  "I  wonder  who  they  really  are?" 

GERALD.  Didn't  he  know? 


THE    LIE  57 

NOLL.  No.  He  said:  "Dibdin,  if  you  want  to  be 
believed  when  you're  telling  a  lie,  don't  tell  it  too 
often,  or  too  emphatically." 

GERALD.  Telling  a  lie?    Go  on. 

NOLL.  "And  if  you  wish  to  pass  under  an  assumed 
name " 

GERALD.  Assumed  name! 

NOLL.  "Don't  keep  on  dragging  it  in."  Then  he  told 
me  that  Miss  Shale  had  come  to  him  a  few  months 
before,  and  told  him  that  his  services  would  be  re- 
quired— for  a  coming  event.  She  said  that  she  had 
brought  the  sister  with  her,  and  that  the  husband  was 
in  India.  Rodd  said  he  should  have  believed  there  was 
a  husband  in  India,  if  they  hadn't  talked  so  much 
about  him. 

[Enter  LUCY  and  SIR  ROBERT  L.  NOLL  recog- 
nizes LUCY.  LUCY  is  very  prettily 
dressed  in  a  fashionable  summer  gown 
which  is  in  marked  contrast  to  ELINOR'S 
quite  plain  one. 

SIR  ROBERT,  [nobbling  in  after  LUCY.]  Here  she  is! 
Here's  my  little  fairy  godmother!  [Introducing.] 
Mr.  Dibdin — Miss  Lucy  Shale. 

LUCY.  [Shaking  hands.]  How  d'ye  do? 

NOLL.  How  d'ye  do? 

LUCY.  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Forster. 

GERALD.  Good  afternoon. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Now,  Mr.  Dibdin,  we'll  have  a  look  at 
the  stables,  if  you're  ready. 

NOLL.  Quite. 

SIR  ROBERT.  You'll  find  them  very  tumbledown  and 
mouldy — very  sad — very  sad ! 


58  THE    LIE 

NOLL.  Very  sad — very  sad!  Let's  keep  them  from 
mouldering  any  further. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Forster,  Lucy  will  look  after  you — 
[patting  LUCY  on  the  shoulder] — my  little  fairy  god- 
mother ! 

LUCY.  Go  away,  Grandy.  You're  always  flattering 
me! 

SIR  ROBERT.  Flattering  you !  I  don't  know  what  the 
old  place  would  be  without  you.  [Kissing  her.]  Come 
along,  Mr.  Dibdin. 

[NOLL  and  SIR  ROBERT  go  off  at  door  R.,  SIR 
ROBERT  calling  NOLL'S  attention  to  GERALD 
and  LUCY  as  he  goes  off.  NOLL  is  startled 
by  SIR  ROBERT'S  gesture,  which  indicates 
an  attachment  between  LUCY  and  GERALD. 
Exit  NOLL  after  SIR  ROBERT,  much  con- 
cerned. 

LUCY.  [Steals  a  look  at  GERALD,  who  is  standing 
apart,  distressed  by  NOLL'S  story.]  Grandfather  makes 
himself  really  foolish  over  me.  And,  after  all,  I  simply 
do  my  duty  to  him  and  Elinor.  [He  does  not  reply  as 
she  moves  toward  him.]  It's  such  a  delight  to  see  a  few 
neighbours  sometimes.  I  hope  you're  going  to  stay  on 
at  The  Hall? 

GERALD.  [Absorbed.]  I'm  not  certain.  They're  press- 
ing me  to  go  back  to  Egypt. 

LUCY.  I've  such  a  longing  to  see  Egypt.  You're  not 
much  in  Cairo,  are  you? 

GERALD.  I  generally  run  up  for  a  month  or  two  in 
the  season. 

LUCY.  I  think  I  must  manage  to  get  out  next  winter. 
If  I  do,  I  want  to  get  right  into  the  heart  of  the  coun- 
try. I  wonder  if  you  could  help  me? 


THE    LIE  59 

GERALD.  Anything  I  can  do 

LUCY.  Thanks.  I  should  like  to  see  all  your  won- 
derful engineering  works. 

GERALD.  I'm  afraid  that's  hardly  possible  for  ladies. 
They're  quite  away  from  civilization. 

LUCY.  Oh,  I  don't  mind  roughing  it !  And  when  I've 
made  up  my  mind  to  do  a  thing,  I  always  do  it.  But 
you're  not  certain  of  being  in  Egypt  next  winter? 

GERALD.  My  plans  are  quite  unsettled.  I'd  some 
thoughts  of  Brighton [LucY  has  a  scarcely  per- 
ceptible shock.  He  is  watching  her  rather  closely.] 
Do  you  know  Brighton? 

LUCY.  No.    Only  very  slightly. 

GERALD.  Your  sister  was  telling  me  she  stayed  there 
two  years  ago. 

LUCY.  Did  she?  I  don't  remember.  I  was  with  my 
Aunt  Kate.  Perhaps  Elinor  may  have  run  down  there 
for  a  day  or  two.  [Seeing  that  he  is  looking  at  her.] 
Ah,  yes,  I  remember;  she  did  go! 

GERALD.  For  a  day  or  two? 

LUCY.  It  may  have  been  longer.  [Getting  a  little 
alarmed,  and  unable  to  avoid  showing  it.]  Why  are  you 
asking  me? 

GERALD.  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  have  gone 
with  her. 

LUCY.  No.  [Getting  more  alarmed.]  Did  she  tell 
you  I  went  with  her? 

GERALD.  No.    She  mentioned  it  quite  casually. 

LUCY.  I  was  with  my  Aunt  Kate  all  that  time 

[Seeing  that  he  is  still  keenly  watching  her.]  Is  there 
anything  more  you  wish  to  know? 

GERALD.  No.     I  understood  your  sister  to  say  that 


60  THE    LIE 

her  visit  was  very  urgent I'm  very  rude — pray 

forgive  me. 

[He  turns  away,  and  is  going  off.    Her  alarm 
has  increased.     She  follows  him. 

LUCY.  Mr.  Forster — please  telk  me — you  seem  to 
think  there  is  some  mystery.  What  do  you  know? 

GERALD.  Miss  Shale,  forgive  my  asking  again.  You 
did  gq  with  your  sister  to  Brighton? 

LUCY.  You've  heard  something.    Tell  me  what. 

GERALD.  I'd  rather  say  no  more. 

LUCY.  No.  You  must  tell  me  what  you  know.  Yes, 
please. 

GERALD.  Two  years  ago  it  became  necessary  for  your 
sister  to  go  to  Brighton.  It  was  so,  wasn't  it?  [Lucr 
begins  to  perceive  his  mistake.]  She  told  me  so  her- 
self. Forgive  my  asking.  You  did  go  with  her? 

LUCY.  Yes. 

GERALD.  And  you  stayed  with  her  while — till  she 
could  come  away? 

LUCY.  Yes;  I  had  to  see  her  through.  It  was  only 
what  any  sister  would  have  done,  and  naturally  I  did 
it  for  Elinor. 

GERALD.  It  was  kind  of  you. 

LUCY.  Now  you  see  why  I  was  so  frightened  when 
you  began  to  question  me.  Who  told  you? 

GERALD.  I  mustn't  say. 

LUCY.  There's  no  chance  of  its  getting  known? 

GERALD.  Not  the  least.  I  learned  it  quite  by  acci- 
dent. You  may  be  sure  I  shall  keep  it  quite  secret. 

LUCY.  You  won't  let  Elinor  suspect  that  you've 
heard.  She'd  be  so  terribly  upset  if  she  thought  you 
knew! 

GERALD.  Yes.    Perhaps  I'd  better  not  see  her. 


THE    LIE  61 

LUCY.  That  would  be  kindest. 

GERALD.  I'll  write  her  that  I  have  to  go  back  to  my 
work  in  Egypt. 

LUCY.  Yes,  that  would  be  best.     [He  is  standing 
overwhelmed.      A  pause.      She  lays  her  hand  affec- 
tionately on  his  arm.]     I'm  so  sorry  for  you — so  sorry! 
GERALD.  Thanks.    Thank  you  for  what  you  did  for 
her.  [Shaking  her  hand. 

LUCY.  It   was   only  my   duty.     I   had   to   see  her 
through. 

GERALD.  But  it  was  kind.    I'll  write  her  now — and 
get  it  over.  [Goes  to  writing  table. 

LUCY.  Yes,  that  would  be  best.     Here  are  pens  and 
paper. 

[He  sits  down  to  write.  She  affectionately  lays 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  He  presses 
it.  She  goes  off  R.,  watching  him.  Left 
alone,  GERALD  writes  for  a  moment;  then 
tears  up  the  letter,  sits  with  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands;  begins  writing  again, 
stops,  rises,  comes  away,  stands  over- 
whelmed; makes  a  gesture  of  resolution, 
goes  to  table;  sits  down,  writes  quickly 
and  resolutely.  LUCY  appears  outside 
window,  watches  GERALD  writing,  with- 
draws. GERALD  finishes  and  seals  his 
letter.  Enter  NOLL  E. 

NOLL.  Gerald,  I  oughtn't  to  have  told  you  what  I  did 
just  now. 

GERALD.  Why  not? 

NOLL.  Sir  Robert  has  just  been  hinting  very  plainly 
that  you  are  attached  to  this  girl. 

GERALD.  You  were  quite  right  to  tell  me. 


62  THE    LIE 

NOLL.  It  has  hit  you  pretty  hard. 

GERALD.  I  was  going  to  propose  to  her  this  after- 
noon. 

NOLL.  Can't  you  forgive  her?  [GERALD  shakes  his 
head.]  I'm  sorry.  From  what  Sir  Robert  says,  you're 
losing  a  great  treasure.  And  she's  very  much  in  love 
with  you.  Gerald 

GERALD.  Don't  say  any  more  about  this,  will  you? 
Don't  please.  There's  a  good,  fellow.  It's  all  over. 
I  shall  get  back  to  Egypt. 

[ELINOR  enters  very  gaily,  downstairs  L. 

ELINOR.  Now,  Mr.  Dibdin,  I'm  quite  ready  to  show 
you  over  our  old  barn.  "Will  you  come,  Mr.  Forster? 

GERALD.  I'm  afraid  I  can't.  I've  just  thought  of  an 
important  telegram.  I  must  hurry  off  to  send  it. 

[SiR  ROBERT  enters  door  E. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Now,  Elinor — now,  Mr.  Dibdin,  we'll 
show  you  round  upstairs. 

NOLL.  Ready,  Sir  Robert. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Come  along,  Elinor.  [To  NOLL.]  We'll 
look  over  my  room  first. 

[Exit  SIR  ROBERT  and  NOLL. 

GERALD.  Miss  Shale,  you  were  right  just  now  when 
you  said  it  was  my  duty  to  go  back  to  Egypt  and 
finish  my  work  there. 

ELINOR.  [Struck  by  the  change  in  his  tone.]  Has 
anything  happened? 

GERALD.  Nothing,  except  that  I've  had  a  very  severe 
struggle  with  myself  since  you  left  me.  I  see  now 
that  I  mustn't  follow  my  inclinations.  I  mustn't  stay 
in  England. 

ELINOR.  You're  going  away — soon? 

GERALD.  As  soon  as  I  can  arrange.     I've  scribbled 


THE   LIE  63 

a  line  here  to  explain.    I  can  tear  it  up  now  that  I've 
seen  you. 

ELINOR.  No;  give  it  to  me. 

GERALD.  [Giving  letter.]  It  only  says  what  I've  just 
told  you.    Forgive  me.    Good-bye.        [Exit  GERALD  R. 
[ELINOR  opens  letter,  reads  it,  cannot  under- 
stand; her  hand  drops  with  letter  in  it, 
she  stands  overwhelmed,  reads  it  again. 
LUCY  creeps  on  and  watches  her  a  mo- 
ment. 

LUCY.  [Speaks    very    carelessly.]  Nell,    what    have 
you  been  doing  to  Mr.  Forster? 
ELINOR.  What  do  you  mean? 

LUCY.  He  has  rushed  off  and  scarcely  said  "Good- 
bye." I  couldn't  persuade  him  to  stay  to  tea. 

ELINOR.  Did  you  say  anything  to  him  about  me? 
LUCY.  No.    When? 

ELINOR.  Just  now — when  you  were  in  here  with 
him. 

LUCY.  No.  We  never  mentioned  your  name.  We 
talked  about  the  weather.  I  tried  to  get  him  on  to 
Egypt,  but  I  could  scarcely  get  a  word  out  of  him. 
Why? 

ELINOR.  Nothing. 

LUCY.  Aren't  you  coming  to  show  Mr.  Dibdin  over 
the  rooms? 

ELINOR.  Yes — I'll  come  in  a  minute. 

[LucY  goes  off  slowly  L.,  watching  ELINOR. 
ELINOR  again  turns  to  letter. 

CURTAIN 

[Three  years  and  four  months  pass  between  Acts  II 
and  III.] 


ACT  III 

SCENE  :  The  drawing-room  of  the  Dower  House,  Shale 
Regis.  A  prettily  furnished,  modern  room  in  the 
house  which  has  been  seen  through  the  window  of 
the  preceding  acts.  At  back  is  a  large  window 
opening  onto  a  flower  garden.  This  window  is 
obviously  a  recent  addition  to  the  house.  Be- 
yond the  flower  garden  is  the  Abbey,  which  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  park  landscape  in  autumn  foliage. 
Down  stage  E.  is  a  fireplace.  Down  stage  L.  is  a 
door.  The  room  shows  a  marked  contrast  to  the 
neglect  and  decay  of  the  Abbey  drawing-room.  It 
is  tastefully  and  sufficiently  furnished  with  bright, 
pretty  modern  furniture.  There  are  a  good  many 
knickknacks  about  it.  It  has  an  air  of  comfort 
and  prosperity. 

TIME:  About  twelve  on  a  late  October  morning.  The 
windows  at  back  are  wide  open  and  a  bright 
morning  sun  is  shining  on  the  garden  and  the 
Abbey  and  the  landscape  beyond.  Discover  ELINOR 
in  the  garden  outside  the  windows.  She  is  in  a 
pretty  morning  gown,  with  gardening  hat  and 
gloves.  She  has  a  large  bouquet  of  autumn  flow- 
ers in  her  apron,  and  is  stooping  to  cut  a  large 
rose  on  a  tree  outside  the  window.  Enter  GIB- 
BARD  with  a  letter  on  tray.  GIBBARD  is  neatly 

64 


THE    LIE  65 

dressed  as  a  parlour  maid.  ELINOR  enters  through 
window  as  GIBBARD  takes  the  letter  to  her.  ELINOR 
puts  down  her  flowers  and  scissors. 

GIBBARD.  For  you,  miss.  [Handing  letter.]  A  foot- 
man has  just  bicycled  over  from  the  Hall  with  it. 

ELINOR.  [Shows  a  little  surprise  at  the  handwriting, 
opens  letter,  and  glances  through  it.]  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Forster  got  down  to  the  Hall  last  night.  They're  com- 
ing over  to  lunch. 

GIBBARD.  Yes,  miss. 

ELINOR.  I'll  come  out  to  the  cook  and  give  her  in- 
structions. 

[SiR  ROBERT  enters  at  door.  He  is  now  quite 
smartly  dressed  as  a  country  gentleman, 
has  the  "Times"  in  his  hand,  which  he 
puts  down. 

GIBBARD.  You  said  Mrs.  Callard  and  her  little  boy 
would  be  here  to  lunch,  miss. 

[SiR  ROBERT  shows  a  little  vexation. 

ELINOR.  [After  a  pause  of  consideration.]  I  don't 
suppose  Mrs.  Callard  will  stay  to  lunch  now.  I'll  tell 
you  later. 

GIBBARD.  Yes,  miss.  [Exit. 

ELINOR.  Lucy  and  Mr.  Forster  are  down  at  The 
Hall.  [Giving  SIR  ROBERT  the  letter.]  They're  motor- 
ing over,  and  are  staying  to  lunch. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Heigh!  Heigh!  Heigh!  My  little 
Lucy  at  last!  Well,  it  was  about  time  they  came  to 
see  us. 

ELINOR.  Yes. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Why,  it's  over  three  years  now  since 
she  left  us. 


66  THE   LIE 

ELINOR.  Three  years  this  month. 

SIB  ROBERT.  Clever  stroke  of  hers  going  off  to  Egypt 
as  she  did  and  landing  Forster. 

ELINOR.  Very  clever. 

SIR  ROBERT.  But  she  ought  to  have  run  down  to  see 
her  old  Grandy  before  this. 

ELINOR.  They've  had  so  much  to  do  in  Paris  and 
London.  And  perhaps  they  didn't  want  very  much  to 
see  us. 

SIR  ROBERT.  They  must  have  wanted  to  see  me.  If 
Lucy  hasn't  been  down,  it  must  be  on  your  account. 

ELINOR.  Perhaps. 

SIB  ROBERT.  [Turning  to  the  letter.]  She  says  here: 
"I  hope,  old  girl,  we  shall  meet  as  sisters,  and  love 
each  other  as  we  did  in  the  old  times."  What  does  she 
mean  by  that? 

ELINOR.  What  she  says,  I  suppose. 

SIR  ROBERT.  You  haven't  shown  a  nice  spirit  to 
your  sister  since  she  married  Forster. 

ELINOR.  Haven't  I? 

SIR  ROBERT.  No ;  and  she's  always  sending  you  pres- 
ents. That  fur  coat  last  winter,  and  the  necklace,  and 
the  ring  on  your  birthday. 

ELINOR.  I  don't  deserve  it. 

SIR  ROBERT.  No,  you  don't — taking  her  gifts  as  you 
do.  [Cunningly.]  She  wrote  me  last  week  she  was 
Bending  you  a  cheque. 

ELINOR.  Yes. 

SIR  ROBERT.  A  good-sized  one — eh? 

ELINOR.  Fifty  pounds.    I  sent  it  back. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Sent  it  back?  Good  heavens!  Sent  it 
back! 

ELINOR.  It's  all  Mr.  Forster's  money.    We  oughtn't 


"You  haven't  shown  a  nice  spirit  to  your 
sister  since  she  married  Forster." 


THE   LIE  67 

to  take  it.  He  has  done  so  much  for  us  since  he  mar- 
ried Lucy. 

SIR  ROBERT.  He  can  afford  it. 

ELINOR.  I  can't  afford  to  take  it. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  I  can.  I  have  my  proper  pride — 
no  man  more  so.  And  no  man  has  more  reason  for  a 
proper  pride.  But  to  send  back  cheques — and  from 
your  own  family!  That  isn't  pride.  That's  damned 
silly,  cantankerous  tomfoolery!  It's  ingratitude — ob- 
stinate, pig-headed  ingratitude!  I  shall  tell  Lucy  my 
opinion  of  it.  And  I  shall  ask  her  to  make  her  spare 
cheques  payable  to  me  in  the  future.  They  won't  be 
wasted  on  me. 

ELINOR.  No,  they  won't! 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Angrily.]  No,  they  won't.  The  truth 
is  you're  jealous  of  Lucy's  marrying  Forster. 

ELINOR.  No,  not  jealous. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Then  what's  the  reason  of  your  behav- 
ing as  you  are  doing? 

ELINOR.  I've  always  written  kindly  to  her.  But  I 
didn't  like  her  going  off  to  Egypt  without  letting  us 
know.  And  then  saying  nothing  about  her  engagement 
to  Mr.  Forster — simply  writing  to  tell  us  they  were 
married. 

SIR  ROBERT.  A  very  sensible  thing  to  do.  And  very 
lucky  for  us.  Here  we  are  in  clover — comparatively. 
We  ought  to  be  thankful  to  Lucy  and  to  Providence. 

ELINOR.  I'm  thankful  to  Mr.  Forster — and  to  Mr. 
Dibdin  for  keeping  us  out  of  the  workhouse. 

SIR  ROBERT.  And  aren't  you  thankful  to  Lucy? 

ELINOR.  When  she  comes  this  morning,  I  shall  for- 
get there  has  been  any  coolness  between  us,  and  be 
quite  friendly  and  sisterly  to  her. 


68  THE    LIE 

SIR  ROBERT.  That's  the  right  tone.  We'll  have  a 
jolly  little  lunch.  Gibbard  said  that  Mrs.  Callard  and 
her  child  are  coming.  Why  do  you  keep  on  inviting 
that  woman  here? 

ELINOR.  I  don't  keep  on  inviting  her. 

SIR  ROBERT.  She's  been  hanging  about  the  place  for 
the  last  month.  And  the  same  last  year. 

ELINOR.  Mrs.  Callard  was  staying  in  the  same  house 
at  Brighton  when  Lucy  and  I  were  there  five  years  ago. 
Her  baby  was  just  born,  and  Lucy  and  I  took  a  fancy 
to  him.  Last  year  she  came  to  stay  for  a  week  in 
lodgings  at  Waventry.  Naturally,  I  went  to  see  her, 
and  asked  her  here.  The  boy's  a  dear  little  fellow. 

SIR  ROBERT.  They  won't  be  staying  to-day,  I  hope? 

ELINOR.  Not  unless  Lucy  wishes.  She  was  fond  of 
the  boy  when  he  was  a  baby,  and  she  might  like  to 
see  him  again. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Lucy  has  got  her  own  child,  and  she 
won't  want  to  be  bothered  with  Mrs.  Callard's.  I 
think  I'll  ask  Dibdin  to  lunch. 

ELINOR.  It  would  please  Mr.  Forster. 

SIR  ROBERT.  In  her  letter  to  me  last  week,  Lucy 
hinted  something  about  a  motor  for  us.  I'm  getting 
Dibdin  to  put  up  a  new  garage 

ELINOR.  [Firmly.]  No,  Grandy,  no 

SIR  ROBERT.  Why  not? 

ELINOR.  We've  imposed  too  much  upon  Mr.  Dibdin. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Imposed?  He's  my  tenant,  isn't  he? 
We  had  to  turn  out  of  the  Abbey  to  make  way  for 
him.  A  thirteen-penny-ha'penny-mixture  man !  Comes 
and  takes  an  historic  old  place  like  Shale  Abbey,  drops 
in  for  all  its  associations,  takes  his  place  in  the  county, 


THE   LIE  69 

and-  he  isn't  to  be  allowed  to  put  up  a  motor  garage 
for  the  owner  he  has  turned  out! 

ELINOR.  He's  always  doing  things  you  ask  him.  See 
how  beautifully  he  has  done  up  this  house  for  us. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  it  was  in  the  agreement.  Still,  I 
must  say  Dibdin  has  behaved  very  well. 

ELINOR.  He  has,  indeed. 

SIR  ROBERT.*  And  when  I  suggested  to  him  last  night 
about  the  motor  house  and  said  you'd  like  it 

ELINOR.  You  said  I  would  like  it? 

SIR  ROBERT.  He  jumped  at  the  idea.  He's  only  too 
pleased  to  do  anything  for  you. 

ELINOR.  Grandy,  please  stop  that. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Stop  it?  You're  a  fool,  Elinor.  You 
might  be  Mrs.  Dibdin  and  mistress  of  Shale  Abbey 
to-morrow — if  you  wished. 

ELINOR.  I  don't  wish.  And  I  don't  intend  Mr.  Dib- 
din shall  spend  any  more  of  his  money  on  us. 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Makes  a  gesture  of  irritation.]  Well, 

thank  God  Lucy's  coming  back  to  put  us  all  to  rights ! 

[NoLL  appears  in  garden  just  outside  window. 

NOLL.  Good  morning. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Good  morning,  Dibdin.    Come  in. 

NOLL.  [Entering  through  window.]  Good  morning, 
Miss  Shale. 

ELINOR.   [Shaking  hands.].  Good  morning. 

NOLL.  I've  just  had  a  note  from  Gerald.  Mrs. 
Forster  and  he  are  down  at  The  Hall. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes;  they're  coming  to  lunch.  You'd 
better  join  us. 

NOLL.  Delighted! 

SIR  ROBERT.  This  is  my  little  fairy  godmother's 
home-coming  after  all  these  years.  And  I  must  give 


70  THE    LIE 

her  a  real  royal  Shale  welcome.  Elinor,  tell  cook  to 
give  us  something  decent  for  lunch  for  once. 

ELINOR.  I'll  go  and  see  about  it.  [To  NOLL,  who 
sees  her  to  door.]  So  glad  you're  staying!  [Exit. 

SIR  ROBERT.  And  I'll  give  you  a  bottle  of  port.  Ah ! 
It  was  port  that  made  the  old  true  breed  of  English- 
men  

NOLL.  Gave  them  that  rich,  full-blooded  mellowness 
of  tone,  eh? 

SIR  ROBERT.  And  what  are  we  to-day? 

NOLL.  A  sorry  race,  I  fear,  Sir  Robert!  A  sorry, 
scurvy  lot! 

SIR  ROBERT.  "We're  a  parcel  of  damned  twopenny- 
ha'penny  anemic  clerks  and  typists  and  counterskip- 
pers!  We  can't  drink.  We  can't  swear!  We  can't 
wench  like  gentlemen ! 

NOLL.  That's  democracy.  Takes  away  all  our  pleas- 
ures and  gives  us  the  vote. 

SIR  ROBERT.  You've  hit  it.  I'm  glad  to  find,  Dib- 
din,  that  as  my  tenant  and  neighbour  you  are  adopting 
my  views.  It's  a  great  responsibility  to  enter  upon  the 
traditions  of  Shale  Abbey. 

NOLL.  I  feel  it!  I  feel  it!  What's  the  state  of  the 
country  this  morning? 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Indignant.]  State  of  the  country? 
[Taking  tip  the  "Times."]  Have  you  seen  the  paper? 

NOLL.  No.    Everybody  striking,  as  iisual,  I  suppose? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes.  It's  the  confounded  hair-dressers 
now.  Nobody  has  been  shaved  in  London  for  three 
days. 

NOLL.  That's  another  score  for  the  lower  classes. 
They've  always  sported  a  three  days'  growth. 


THE    LIE  71 

SIR  ROBERT.  But  let  them  go  on !  Let  them  go  on — 
till  the  smash  comes! 

NOLL.  That's  what  I'm  waiting  for — the  smash ! 

SIR  ROBERT.  It's  coming — it's  coming.  I  shan't  live 
to  see  it 

NOLL.  Don't  say  that,  Sir  Robert.  We  must  hurry 
things  up. 

SIR  ROBERT.  No.  I  shan't  live  to  see  it.  But  you 
will. 

NOLL.  If  there's  going  to  be  an  infernal  scrimmage, 
I  want  to  be  there.  And  at  the  nearest  point  of  view 
that's  free  from  danger. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes;  it's  coming!  It's  coming!  Have 
you  thought  any  more  of  the  motor  house  you  kindly 
promised  to  put  up? 

NOLL.  Yes;  we  must  get  out  the  plans. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Thanks!  Elinor  is  delighted  at  the 
idea. 

NOLL.  "We  must  consult  Miss  Shale. 

SIR  ROBERT.  No.  We'll  get  her  away  for  a  few 
weeks,  and  have  it  all  done  as  a  pleasant  surprise  for 
her  when  she  comes  back,  eh?  Eh? 

NOLL.  Yes;  that's  a  good  thought 

SIR  ROBERT.  Shush!  [As  ELINOR  enters.]  Well, 
dear,  what's  cook  going  to  give  us? 

ELINOR.  Trout — shoulder  of  mutton 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Disgusted.]   Shoulder  of  mutton. 

ELINOR.  Partridges — and  an  omelette! 

SIR  ROBERT.  Her  omelettes  are  like  paving  stones. 

ELINOR.  Then  be  thankful  you  have  a  good  diges- 
tion. Oh,  Mr.  Dibdin,  Grandy  tells  me  he  has  been 
speaking  to  you  about  a  motor  house.  [SiR  ROBERT 


72  THE   LIE 

frowns  and  makes  signs  at  her.]  I  hope  you  won't 
think  of  it 

NOLL.  I'm  seeing  about  the  plans. 

ELINOR.  Please  not.  I  beg  you  won't  waste  any 
more  money  on  us. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Waste!  Waste!  There's  ingratitude! 
Waste! 

ELINOR.  We  haven't  a  motor.  We  can't  afford  one. 
It  must  be  waste  to  put  up  a  motor  house. 

NOLL.  The  motor  will  come  by  force  of  attraction. 
Meantime,  you  must  allow  me  to  put  up  the  motor 
house;  not  in  a  spirit  of  waste,  but  as  a  monument  of 
contrition. 

ELINOR.  Contrition  for  what? 

NOLL.  The  misdeeds  of  my  ancestor.  [With  a  glance 
at  Sir  Robert.]  Sir  Robert  tells  me  that  Dibdin's 
"Gift  of  Health"  was  extensively  used  in  his  nursery. 

SIR  ROBERT.  It  was  always  knocking  about  the  place. 
Done  up  in — a  paper  wrapping,  with  a  thirteen-penny- 
ha'penny  label. 

NOLL.  Two  and  nine,  Sir  Robert.  Two  and  nine- 
pence  was  the  lowest  figure  at  which  my  old  swindler 
of  a  grandfather  would  permit  the  British  public  to 
poison  themselves.  [Enter  GIBBARD  L. 

GIBBARD.  If  you  please,  Sir  Robert,  what  wine  will 
you  have  for  lunch? 

SIR  ROBERT.  We  must  have  some  champagne  for  my 
little  fairy  godmother.  And  a  bottle  of  port  for  you 
and  me,  Dibdin.  I'll  come  and  get  it  out,  Gibbard. 

[Exit  GIBBARD  L. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Really,  Elinor,  now  we've  taken  up  our 
position  again  in  the  county,  we  must  get  a  butler. 

[Exit  SIR  ROBERT  L. 


THE    LIE  73 

ELINOR.  [Sits.]  Mr.  Dibdin,  we  really  can't  impose 
upon  you  any  more. 

NOLL.  What's  the  meaning  of  "impose"? 

ELINOR.  To  take  money  and  gifts  as  we  are  doing 
from  you — without  any  right. 

NOLL.  What's  the  meaning  of  "right"? 

ELINOR.  You  know  very  well  what  I  mean. 

NOLL.  You  mean  you  have  no  moral  right  to  my 
money  ?  Neither  have  I.  But  I  do  take  it  all  the  same, 
because  I  can't  find  out  whom  it  belongs  to,  and  be- 
cause I'm  the  most  deserving  man  I  know.  And  I'm 
sure  you're  far  more  deserving  than  I  am. 

ELINOR.  You  never  will  talk  plainly. 

NOLL.  You  wish  me?  Very  well.  There's  only  one 
way  in  which  you  could  have  a  legal  right  to  share  my 
ill-gotten  gains.  Won't  you  choose  that  way  and — be 
my  wife? 

ELINOR.  [Moving  away  from  him.]  I  can't. 

NOLL.  You're  sure?  I'm  talking  quite  sincerely 
now. 

ELINOR.  I  can't.    It's  quite  impossible. 

NOLL.  I  guessed  so.  That's  the  reason  I  haven't 
asked  you  before.  Forget  it,  and  let  us  go  on  as  we 
are. 

ELINOR.  But  you  must  see  it's  very  embarrassing  for 
me  to  accept  all  this 

NOLL.  I'm  sorry.  But  you  can't  expect  me  to  have 
a  heap  of  money  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  and 
not  try  to  make  you  happy. 

ELINOR.  You  can't  do  that. 

NOLL.  Would  you  rather  I  left  the  Abbey?  I'll  do 
as  you  wish. 

ELINOR.  I  wish  you  to  do  what  is  best  for  yourself. 


74  THE   LIE 

You  might  be  doing  so  much  in  the  world,  instead 
of 

NOLL.  Instead  of  skulking  about  down  here? 

ELINOR.  Ah,  no!  I  know  you  are  doing  a  lot  of 
good  with  your  money.  I  hear  of  it  in  so  many  ways. 
But  oughtn't  you  to  be  doing  something  great? 

NOLL.  It's  only  great  men  who  do  great  things.  Ex- 
cept in  the  newspapers. 

ELINOR.  But  there  are  so  many  things  a  man  can 

NOLL.  Help  me  to  do  something.  I  fancy  you  could 
make  a  useful  man  of  me. 

ELINOR.  Could  I? 

NOLL.  I  know  you  could  make  me  do  anything  you 
wish.  Won't  you  take  me  in  hand? 

ELINOR.  I  can't!    I  wish  I  could! 

NOLL.  Pardon  me — there's  someone  else? 

ELINOR.  There  was.  And  I  can't  forget — you've 
been  so  kind! 

NOLL.  Don't  talk  about  kindness. 

ELINOR.  But  I  must!  Why  should  you  come  down 
here  and  take  the  Abbey  at  an  extravagant  rent,  and 
waste  your  money  on  Grandy 

NOLL.  If  you  wish  to  know  why  I  took  the  Abbey — 
I'll  tell  you.  You  remember  the  day  I  first  came  over 
with  Gerald 


ELINOR.  Yes — very  well- 


NOLL.  When  you  were  showing  me  round  the  Abbey 
I  noticed  there  were  tears  in  your  eyes.  You  made 
some  excuse  and  ran  away.  When  you  came  back  you 
tried  to  look  happy  and  cheerful. 

ELINOR.  I  remember. 

NOLL.  I  had  a  sudden  impulse.    I  thought  I'd  take 


THE    LIE  75 

the  Abbey  and  make  you  happy.  I'm  like  most  men. 
A  woman's  tears  double  me  up — and  yours  were  very 
big  ones. 

ELINOR.  I  was  very  unhappy  that  day. 

NOLL.  So  now  you  know  why  I  took  the  Abbey. 

ELINOR.  My  big  tears. 

NOLL.  Yes;  I  saw  you  were  fretting  about  leaving 
the  old  place 

ELINOR.  Oh,  no !  I  wasn't  thinking  about  the  Abbey. 
I  had  a  very  great  blow  that  day 

NOLL.  That  day?  [Shows  surprise. 

ELINOR.  Don't  let  us  speak  of  it,  please.  This  won't 
prevent  your  staying  to  lunch? 

NOLL.  No.  I  want  to  see  Gerald  and  congratulate 
him  and  your  sister.  I'm  glad  the  match  came  off, 
after  all. 

ELINOR.  After  all?    Why  after  all? 

NOLL.  I  guessed  from  something  Gerald  said  that 
day  that  he  was  attached  to  your  sister. 

ELINOR.  Attached  to  Lucy? 

NOLL.  Yes.  [Seeing  ELINOR'S  pained  face.]  I 
thought  so.  Perhaps  I  was  mistaken.  At  any  rate, 
your  sister  has  married  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the 
world. 

ELINOR.  I  never  quite  understood  Mr.  Forster. 

NOLL.  Forgive  me — you  had  a  great  blow  on  that 
day?  [SiR  ROBERT  looks  in  at  the  open  window  L. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Here  they  are!  Just  driving  through 
the  lodge  gates!  Elinor,  come  and  welcome  our  little 
wanderer.  Dibdin,  come  and  help  me  give  them  a  real 
Shale  welcome.  [Waves  his  hand  and  shouts.]  How 
are  you?  How  are  you?  [Goes  from  window. 


76  THE   LIE 

NOLL.  [Has  gone  up  to  window.]  Yes,  there  they 
are!     [Waving  his  hand.]  Are  you  coming? 
ELINOR.  I'll  come  directly. 

[Exit  NOLL  at  window  and  off  L. 
[ELINOR  leaves  the  flowers,  goes  toward  win- 
dow, looks  off,  comes  back,  stands  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  listens.] 

GERALD.  [Voice  heard  off.]  How  d'ye  do,  Sir  Rob- 
ert?   Noll,  old  fellow,  how  are  you? 

[ELINOR  bursts  into  tears,  then  resolutely 
checks  herself,  wipes  her  eyes.  The 
greetings  outside  are  meanwhile  continued 
in  very  cheery  tones. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Ah!  my  little  fairy  godmother,  how  are 
you? 

LUCY.  Ah,  Grandy! 

NOLL.   My    hearty    congratulations,    Mrs.    Forster. 
Gerald,  old  man,  delighted  to  see  you. 
GERALD.  Glad  to  see  you! 

SIR  ROBERT.  I  want  to  show  you  what  Dibdin  and  I 
have  done  with  the  Abbey. 

LUCY.  Where's  Elinor?  [Enters  at  window,  well 
dressed  in  the  latest  fashion.]  Nell,  old  girl !  [ELINOR 
stands  silent.  LUCY  steals  a  look  at  her.  LUCY'S 
manner  throughout  conveys  uneasiness  and  dread.  She 
comes  up  to  ELINOR.]  Aren't  you  pleased  to  see  me? 
[ELINOR  draws  LUCY  to  her  and  kisses  her 

simply. 

ELINOR.  I  hope  you're  very  happy. 
LUCY.  Of  course  I  am.    You've  been  crying.  What's 
the  matter? 
ELINOR.  Nothing. 


THE   LIE  77 

LUCY.  [Looking  round.]  You  have  done  up  the  old 
place.  What  a  change ! 

ELINOR.  Yes.  We're  very  comfortable  here,  thanks 
to  you  and  Mr.  Forster  and  Mr.  Dibdin. 

LUCY.  [Watching  her  very  keenly.]  Nell,  I  hope 
you  aren't  going  to  keep  it  up? 

ELINOR.  Keep  what  up? 

LUCY.  You're  angry  with  me  because  I  married 
Gerald. 

ELINOR.  No,  not  angry.    I  didn't  understand! 

LUCY.  There's  nothing  to  understand.  I  suppose  you 
think  I  planned  it  all.  You're  quite  mistaken.  You 
know  I'd  arranged  to  go  out  to  Egypt.  He  happened 
to  be  in  Cairo,  and  of  course  I  met  him  a  great  deal. 
But  before  I  accepted  him  I  said:  "You're  quite  sure 
I'm  not  taking  you  from  Elinor?"  And  he  said:  "In 
any  case,  I  shall  never  marry  your  sister."  I  pressed 
him  again  and  again.  You  don't  believe  me !  Is  there 
anything  you  wish  to  ask? 

ELINOR.  On  that  day — the  last  afternoon  he  was 
here — when  you  were  alone  with  him — you  said  nothing 
about  me? 

LUCY.  Not  a  word.  You  asked  me  that  before  I  left. 
I  give  you  my  sacred  word.  Don't  you  believe  me? 

ELINOR.  Yes,  I  believe  you.  [Kisses  her  cordially.] 
Forgive  me. 

LUCY.  Then  it's  quite  made  up,  and  we're  friends 
and  sisters  as  we  used  to  be  ? 

ELINOR.  Yes,  it's  past  and  forgotten.  I'm  so  glad 
you're  happy! 

LUCY.  I've  brought  you  a  little  present.  [Bringing 
out  a  little  leather  jewel  case,  unpacking  it.]  A  dia- 
mond brooch. 


78  THE    LIE 

ELINOR.  Lucy,  you  shouldn't! 

LUCY.  Oh,  nonsense !  I  told  you  at  Brighton  that  if 
ever  I  did  get  a  chance  of  repaying  you,  I  should  do  it. 
Now,  haven't  I  shown  how  grateful  I  am? 

ELINOR.  I  don't  want  all  these,  things 

LUCY.  You've  got  to  take  this.  [Pinning  the  brooch 
on  ELINOR'S  dress.]  It  looks  gorgeous!  And  I'll  try 
to  manage  the  motor. 

ELINOR.  Motor? 

LUCY.  Grandy  has  been  bothering  me  for  a  motor 
for  the  last  three  months.  I  wrote  him  that  Gerald 
had  done  so  much  that  I  couldn't  ask  him  for  more. 
But  he  said  it  would  be  such  a  comfort  to  you. 

ELINOR.  Please  don't  let  him  have  it. 

LUCY.  Oh,  he  shan't!  I  suppose  he's  as  impossible 
as  ever? 

ELINOR.  Just  the  same. 

LUCY.  We  shall  keep  him  decently  dressed,  and  that's 
all  we  shall  do  for  him.  Gerald  has  behaved  most 
handsomely  to  him. 

ELINOR.  Yes.    You  are  lucky. 

LUCY.  I  suppose  I  am. 

ELINOR.  You  ought  to  be  very  happy. 

LUCY.  I  was  the  first  few  months.  Then  there  was 
all  that  trouble  at  the  dam,  and  Gerald  had  to  go 
away 

ELINOR.  Naturally! 

LUCY.  But  he  shouldn't  neglect  me.  However,  it  has 
been  all  right  since  the  baby  came.  Gerald  adores  her. 

ELINOR.  [Enviously.]  Oh,  you  are  lucky!  Lucy, 
you've  told  Mr.  Forster  about  Dick? 

LUCY.  No,  not  yet. 

ELINOR.  Not  yet? 


THE   LIE  79 

LUCY.  I  shall,  when  the  right  time  comes. 

ELINOR.  Wasn't  the  right  time  at  first? 

LUCY.  I  couldn't  tell  him  when  we  were  going  to 
have  a  child  of  our  own.  And  since  then  it  has  been 
impossible. 

ELINOR.  Aren't  you  afraid? 

LUCY.  Of  what? 

ELINOR.  That  he  might  find  out 

LUCY.  It  isn't  likely.  Unless Nell,  promise  me 

you'll  never  breathe  a  word. 

ELINOR.  You  know  I  never  would. 

LUCY.  But  it  might  slip  out — that's  one  reason  I 
haven't  come  down 

ELINOR.  What? 

LUCY.  I've  been  afraid  that  when  you  and  Gerald 
got  talking  that — without  thinking — you  might  say 
something. 

ELINOR.  How  could  I  speak  to  Mr.  Forster  about 
that? 

LUCY.  No.  But — Nell,  old  girl — just  to  put  you  on 
your  guard — promise  me  you  won't  mention  it 

ELINOR.  I  promise  you.  But  you  ought  to  tell  Mr. 
Forster  at  once.  [Suddenly.]  Lucy,  I'd  quite  forgot- 
ten— Mrs.  Callard  and  Dick  are  coming  over  from 
Waventry. 

LUCY.  [Alarmed.]  Coming  here?  You  wrote  me 
they  were  going  back  to  Brighton  on  Saturday. 

ELINOR.  I  had  arranged  it.  But  I've  been  very 
lonely  lately,  so  I  let  them  stay  another  week. 

LUCY.  You  should  have  stopped  them  coming  to-day. 

ELINOR.  It  was  too  late  when  your  note  came. 
[Looking.]  They  ought  to  be  here. 

LUCY.  [Alarmed.]  But  Gerald 


80  THE    LIE 

ELINOR.  I'll  send  them  back  before  he  sees  them. 
LUCY.  Yes.    But  I  want  to  see  Dick.    I've  only  man- 
aged to  run  down  to  Brighton  once  since  I've  been 
home.    How  he  has  grown ! 

ELINOR.  Hasn't  he?  And  he's  the  dearest  little  fel- 
low  !  Now,  haven't  I  been  a  mother  to  him  while 

you've  been  awayf 

LUCY.  Yes,  you  have  been  a  dear.  But  now  I'm 
back  there  won't  be  any  necessity  for  you  to  mother 
him  any  longer.  I'll  go  to  the  station  and  meet  them 

and  stop  them  from  coming  up 

[Enter  GIBBARD,  showing  in  MRS.  CALLARD 
and  DICK.  Exit  GIBBARD.  MRS.  CAL- 
LARD is  a  pale-faced  woman  with  pre- 
maturely gray-white  hair,  neatly  and 
quietly  dressed  in  a  middle-class  fashion. 
DICK  is  a  lively,  handsome  boy  of  five, 
in  a  sailor  suit.  DICK  enters  first,  runs 
to  ELINOR,  springs  up  to  her  waist, 
throws  his  arms  round  her  neck,  drags 
her  down  to  him,  hugs  her,  disarranges 
her  hair.  LUCY,  having  shaken  hands 
with  MRS.  CALLARD,  is  enviously  watch- 
ing the  embrace  between  DICK  and 
ELINOR. 
DICK.  Miss  Shale!  Miss  Shale!  Miss  Shale! 

[Hugging  her. 

ELINOR.  Dick!    Dick!    What  are  you  doing? 
DICK.  I'm  loving  you. 

ELINOR.  Yes;  but  you  mustn't  love  me  like  that. 
[Disengages  herself,  arranges  her  hair,  looks  at  him.] 
Yes,  you  may!  [Snatches  him  to  her,  hugging  him — 


THE    LIE  81 

he  hugs  her  again.]  Look,  here's  somebody  else!  Won't 
you  speak  to  her? 

DICK.  [Going  to  LUCY.]  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  you. 
You  came  to  see  me  at  Brighton. 

LUCY.  [Hugging  him  as  ELINOR  has  done.  DICK 
doesn't  respond,  and  escapes.]  Won't  you  love  me,  too  ? 

DICK.  No.  You  aren't  my  Miss  Shale.  You're  only 
her  sister. 

ELINOR.  Now,  Dick,  we  have  visitors  to-day,  so  you 
and  mummy  must  go  back  to  Waventry  by  the  next 
train.  Come  along.  [Moving  toward  door. 

DICK.  No !  No !  No !  No !  I'm  going  to  stay  with 
you! 

[Jumps   on  sofa  and  lies  on  it,   refuses  to 
budge. 

ELINOR.  No,  dear,  you  must  go  at  once. 

LUCY.  Mrs.  Callard,  please  take  him.  Wait  for  me 
just  beyond  the  lodge  gates.  I'll  come  to  you  there 
and  walk  to  the  station  with  you. 

ELINOR.  Now,  Dick,  dear — be  a  good  boy  and  go 
with  Mummy. 

[SiR  ROBERT,  GERALD,  and  NOLL  come  up  to 
window  outside. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Gerald,  I  want  to  show  you  the  im- 
provements I've  made  in  the  Dower  House.  I've 
thrown  out  this  window 

LUCY.  [In  a  hurried  whisper  to  MRS.  CALLARD.] 
Quick !  Get  him  away !  I'll  come  to  you 

MRS.  CALLARD.  Now,  Dick,  come  along  with  Mum- 
my   [Trying  to  get  him  toward  door. 

[GERALD,    NOLL,    and    SIR   ROBERT   enter   at 
window. 


82  THE    LIE 

DICK.  [Lying  on  sofa.]  No;  I  want  my  Miss  Shale 
to  come 

ELINOR.  [Goes  to  GERALD.]  How  d'ye  do? 

GERALD.  [Shaking  hands.]  How  d'ye  dot 

NOLL.  [To  DICK.]  Hullo,  little  Nipper! 

[Pulling  DICK'S  ear. 

ELINOR.  We're  glad  you  and  Lucy  have  got  back 
from  Egypt  at  last.  [Introducing.]  This  is  Mrs.  Cal- 
lard  and  her  little  boy.  Mrs.  Callard  is  an  old  friend 
of  mine. 

MRS.  CALLARD.  How  d'ye  do,  sir? 

[GERALD  bows  slightly.     He  watches  ELINOR 
and  DICK  keenly. 

ELINOR.  Mrs.  Callard  is  staying  at  Waventry. 
You'll  just  have  time  to  catch  your  train,  Mrs.  Cal- 
lard. Now,  Dick! 

DICK.  No.  You  told  me  to  come  and  have  lunch 
with  you 

MRS.  CALLARD.  Now,  Dick,  you're  very  naughty! 

ELINOR.  If  you're  good  and  go  now,  I'll  come  over 
to-morrow  and  buy  you — oh,  such  lots  of  things !  Come 
along  now! 

DICK.  [Getting  up  from  sofa.]  Very  well.  You 
will  come  and  see  me  to-morrow? 

ELINOR.  Yes;  I  promise  you. 

MRS.  CALLARD.  Make  a  nice  bow,  Dick,  and  say 
"Good  morning"  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

DICK.  [To  NOLL.]  Good  morning,  sir. 

[Shaking  hands. 

NOLL.  Good  morning,  little  Nipper! 

DICK.  [To  GERALD.]  Good  morning,  sir. 

GERALD.  Good  morning  Dick. 

[Strokes  his  head,  looks  at  ELINOR. 


THE    LIE  83 

DICK.  Good  morning,  Miss  Shale. 
LUCY.  Good  morning,  dear. 
DICK.  You  will  come? 

[Coming  to  ELINOR,  again  springs  up  to  her 
and  hugs  her.  She  kisses  him  and  gently 
puts  him  away. 

DICK.  [To  SIB  ROBERT.]  I  shan't  say  "Good  morn- 
ing" to  you.  You're  a  nasty,  cross  old  man.  When  I 

come  to  lunch,  you  tell  me  to  behave  myself 

MRS.  CALLARD.  Dick !     Dick !     You  naughty  boy ! 

[Snatches  his  hand  and  takes  him  off  at  win- 
dow. 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Stands  speechless.]  The  young  scoun- 
drel! Now  that  shows  how  children  are  brought  up 
nowadays.  That's  young  England! 

[LucY  has  watched  MRS.  CALLARD  and  DICK 
off  and  has  gone  up  to  window,  looking 
after  MRS.  CALLARD  and  DICK. 
LUCY.  I'm  going  to  have  a  look  round  the  Abbey 
and  see  what  you've  done  to  it,  Mr.  Dibdin. 

[Exit  after  MRS.  CALLARD  and  DICK. 
SIR  ROBERT.  [Pursuing  his  theme.]  That's  the  rising 
generation — no  reverence,  no  respect  for  age,  no  mod- 
esty, no  chivalry.    Well,  Gerald,  what  do  you  think  of 
the  improvements  I've  made  here? 

GERALD.  Excellent!  I  shouldn't  have  known  the  old 
place. 

SIR  ROBERT.  I  wish  we'd  got  a  decent  lunch  to  offer 
you.  But  Elinor  will  have  a  cheap  cook.  Now,  to-day 

— shoulder  of  mutton,  and  no  entree Dibdin,  that's 

a  remarkably  good  pdte-de-foie-gras  you  always  give  us 
when  we  dine  with  you. 


84  THE    LIE 

NOLL.  I  get  that  from  town  especially  for  you,  Sir 
Robert.  I've  just  had  in  a  fresh  supply. 

SIB  ROBERT.  I  wonder  if  you'd  do  me  a  neighbourly 
turn,  and  lend  me  a  pot  for  to-day's  lunch? 

NOLL.  Certainly. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Lucy  has  gone  over  to  the  Abbey.  We 
might  run  across  and  bring  her  back  with  the  pdte-de- 
foie-gras. 

NOLL.  Come  along!     Come   along!     I've   just   got 

down  a  supply  of  very  fine  smoked  salmon 

[Going  off. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Have  you?  There's  no  better  relish 
than  smoked  salmon.  And  if  you  had  a  stray  anchovy 
or  olive,  I  should  be  everlastingly  obliged — 

[Exit  SIR  ROBERT  and  NOLL  at  window. 
[ELINOR  and  GERALD,  left  alone,  stand  silent 
and  a  little  embarrassed. 

GERALD.  I  hope  you're  thoroughly  happy  and  com- 
fortable here. 

ELINOR.  Yes.  I've  written  to  thank  Lucy.  Now  you 
must  let  me  thank  you. 

GERALD.  There's  no  need  for  that.  It  was  a  great 
pleasure  to  me. 

ELINOR.  You've  finished  your  work  in  Egypt  at  last  ? 

GERALD.  Yes.    I'm  not  quite  satisfied. 

ELINOR.  Why  not? 

GERALD.  The  last  dam  was  rather  a  thankless  task. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  bad  feeling  among  the 
men.  However,  I've  done  it  as  well  as  it  could  be 
done. 

ELINOR.  I'm  sure  of  that.  And  you'll  live  in  Eng- 
land now? 

GERALD.  No.     I   think  not.     Lucy  wants  to  settle 


THE    LIE  85 

down  in  Paris,  and  she  generally  gets  her  own  way,  I 
find. 

ELINOR.  She  tells  me  she's  very  happy. 

GERALD.  I  hope  so.  I've  tried  to  make  her  very 
happy,  because 

ELINOR.  Because ? 

GERALD.  [Coming  to  her.]  Well,  naturally,  I — a 

[A  little  pause. 

ELINOR.  [Moves  away  from  him.]  You  were  a  long 
time  getting  to  The  Hall.  We  expected  you  down  here 
as  soon  as  you  got  away  from  Egypt. 

GERALD.  Lucy  would  stay  in  Paris.  And  when  we 
got  to  London,  she  kept  on  putting  it  off.  And  per- 
haps I  wasn't  very  keen  to  come  myself. 

ELINOR.  Why  not?  I  oughtn't  to  have  asked  you 
that. 

GERALD.  You  must  have  thought  our  marriage  rather 
sudden. 

ELINOR.  I  was  a  little  surprised.  But  now  it  has 
turned  out  so  well — I  do  congratulate  you — with  all  my 
heart.  [Offering  her  hand. 

GERALD.  Thanks!  [Taking  her  hand. 

ELINOR.  [Withdrawing  it — after  a  pause.]  And  you 
have  your  little  Lucy.  That  must  be  a  great  happi- 
ness. 

GERALD.  Yes — a  child  is  a  great  treasure 

[Looks  at  her.  A  long  pause. 

GERALD.  Is  there  anything  more  I  can  do  for  you 
here? 

ELINOR.  No.    You've  already  done  too  much. 

GERALD.  You  mustn't  say  that.  You  know  I  wish  to 
do  everything  I  possibly  can  for  you. 

ELINOR.  [Looks  at  him  very  reproachfully.]     Isn't 


86  THE    LIE 

it  rather  cruel  of  you  to  say  that — now?     [Quickly.] 

We  mustn't  speak  like  this 

[Turning  away  from  him. 

GERALD.  No.  But  let  me  tell  you  now  once  for  all 
that  if  there  is  anything  in  the  world  I  can  do  for  you 
— or  for  anyone  who  is  dear  to  you — [She  looks  at 
him  inquiringly] — any  friend  or  relation 

ELINOR.  I've  very  few  friends.  Now  Lucy  has  gone, 
there's  only  Grandy.  I've  been  very  lonely. 

GERALD.  Well,  think  of  what  I've  said — if  there  is 
anything  I  can  do  to  make  you  happy 

ELINOR.  Oh,  please  say  no  more!    Please  1 

GERALD.  No.    But  you  didn't  think  me  really  cruel? 

ELINOR.  I  thought  you  could  soon  change  and  for- 
get. 

GERALD.  Forget?    I've  often  wished  I  could. 

ELINOR.  [Looks  at  him  and  speaks  reproachfully.] 
Surely  you  did  as  you  wished? 

GERALD.  No.    If  I'd  done  as  I  wished 

ELINOR.  But  in  the  letter  you  wrote  me  when  you 
left  the  Abbey  that  day — you  remember? 

GERALD.  Yes. 

ELINOR.  You  said  your  whole  life  must  be  given  to 
your  work  and  that  you  had  no  right  to  think  of  any- 
thing or  anybody  else.  [Very  bitterly.]  It  wasn't 
very  long  before  you  did  think  of  somebody  else. 

GERALD.  I  did  try  to  put  my  whole  heart  and  soul 
into  my  work.  But  it  had  lost  its  hold  on  me.  I  came 
up  to  Cairo — your  sister  was  there — she  was  your  sis- 
ter— wasn't  it  natural,  under  the  circumstances? 

ELINOR.  It  must  have  been  very  natural  to  you — 
since  you  did  it.  She  was  my  sister!  Was  that  your 


THE   LIE  87 

reason?    Haven't  we  just  said  we  wouldn't  speak  of 
the  past  ?    It's  treacherous  to  Lucy. 

GERALD.  You're  right  to  remind  me.    But  surely — 
you  can  guess  the  reason  of  my  acting  as  I  did? 
ELINOR.  Reason?    What  reason? 

[LucY  appears  at  window,  shows  great  fright 
at  seeing  them  together,  comes  down  to 
them  quickly. 

LUCT.  Gerald,  hasn't  Mr.  Dibdin  made  the  Abbey 
perfectly  lovely  ?    What  are  you  two  chattering  about  ? 
GERALD.  I've  been   telling   your  sister  that  you've 
made  up  your  mind  we  shall  live  in  Paris. 

LUCY.  Of  course  we  shall!  There's  no  other  place. 
I  suppose  this  dear  old  thing — [Fondling  ELINOR] — 
wants  us  to  coop  ourselves  up  down  here.  Is  that 
what  you've  been  advising  him,  Nell? 

ELINOR.  I've  not  been  advising  Mr.  Forster. 
LUCY.  She  is  such  a  dear  old-fashioned  thing !   [Fon- 
dling  ELINOR.]     We  must  have  her  up  in  London 
sometimes  and  give  her  a  good  time. 

[SiR  ROBERT  and  NOLL  enter  at  window,  SIR 

ROBERT  carrying  tins  of  smoked  salmon, 

anchovies,  and  olives,  and  NOLL  carrying 

three  terrines  of  pdte-de-foie-gras. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Give  me  your  lot,  Dibdin.    I'll  take  them 

in  to  cook.     [Taking  NOLL'S  terrines.]     And  I'll  show 

her  the  right  way  to  make  an  omelette.  [Exit. 

NOLL.  We  expected  to  find  you  at  the  Abbey 

LUCY.  I  strolled  round  the  grounds.  [Looking  at 
her  watch.]  Nell,  I  want  to  see  all  the  other  rooms 
before  lunch.  Come  and  show  me.  [Seeing  that  ELI- 
NOR is  hesitating.]  Come  along.  I  want  to  have  a 


88  THE    LIE 

long  talk  with  you.    [Taking  ELINOR'S  arm.]     Gerald, 
I  shall  keep  her  all  to  myself  till  lunch. 

[ELINOR  goes  off  with  her  reluctantly. 

NOLL.  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  old  place, 
Gerald?  The  old  boy's  been  doing  me  pretty  thor- 
oughly, hasn't  he? 

GERALD.  Noll — that  woman  and  child  who  were  here 
this  morning? 

NOLL.  They're  old  friends  of  Miss  Shale.  They're 
staying  at  Waventry,  and  she  has  them  over  some- 
times. Nice  little  kid,  isn't  he?  I  say,  what's  old 
Shale  going  to  touch  you  for  next?  He's  getting  a 
motor  garage  out  of  me! 

GERALD.  That  boy  is  Elinor's  child! 

NOLL.  [Startled.]  Elinor's  child!  What  are  you 
talking  about? 

GERALD.  You  remember  what  you  told  me — that  you 
saw  Elinor  with  her  child  at  Brighton 

NOLL.  I  told  you ? 

[Has  a  shock  which  he  instantly  conceals  from 
GERALD. 

GERALD.  You  know  you  did.  You  said  your  doctor 
friend  told  you  her  history,  how  she  had  come  to 
Brighton  and  passed  herself  off  as  a  married  woman, 
whose  husband  was  in  India.  [NoLL  shows  great  con- 
cern and  some  confusion.]  You  surely  remember? 
You  aren't  going  to  deny  it  ? 

NOLL.  [Feeling  his  way.]  No.  But  if  you  remember, 
old  man,  when  I  came  back  that  afternoon,  I  was 
going  to  give  you  all  the  particulars,  but  you  stopped 
me,  and  told  me  never  to  mention  the  matter  again. 

GERALD.  I  know  I  did. 


THE   LIE  89 

NOLL.  Well,  there's  no  occasion  to  mention  it  now,  is 
there? 

GERALD.  Yes.  You're  quite  sure  it  was  Miss  Shale 
whom  you  saw  at  Brighton  station  with  the  child? 

NOLL.  [After  a  pause.]  Yes,  I  saw  her  there. 

GERALD.  Is  there  any  possibility  that  your  doctor 
friend  made  a  mistake? 

NOLL.  [Hard  pressed.]  He  may  have  done  so.  I 
didn't  pay  very  much  attention  to  what  he  was  say- 
ing  

GERALD.  [Very  angrily.]  You  didn't  pay  much  at- 
tention? And  on  the  strength  of  his  gossiping  story 
you  come  to  me  and  take  away  the  reputation  of  the 
woman  I  loved ! 

NOLL.  Woman  you [Becovers  himself.]  It  was 

a  stupid,  clumsy  thing  to  do.  I'd  no  right  to  mention 
it.  Only,  if  you  recollect,  you  dragged  it  out  of  me 

GERALD.  I  had  very  strong  reasons 

NOLL.  I  couldn't  guess  that.    I'm  terribly  sorry. 

GERALD.  Tell  me  exactly  what  this  doctor  told  you 
about  Elinor.  [NOLL  hesitates.]  You  don't  wish  to — 
as  she's  my  wife's  sister?  You  needn't.  Lucy  told  me 
everything  herself. 

NOLL.  [Again  is  surprised.]  Mrs.  Forster  told  you? 

GERALD.  Yes,  that  same  afternoon,  after  you  had 
gone  out  of  the  room. 

NOLL.  Mrs.  Forster  spoke  of  it? 

GERALD.  Yes.  I  was  fearfully  upset  by  what  you 
had  told  me.  When  Lucy  came  in,  I  purposely  dragged 
in  Brighton,  to  watch  the  effect  on  her.  She  saw  that 
I  knew  something.  Of  course  she  was  very  much  con- 
cerned for  her  sister.  I  couldn't  rest  till  I'd  got  the 
whole  truth  from  her. 


90  THE    LIE 

NOLL.  She  told  you  the  truth? 

GERALD.  Yes;  she  confirmed  your  story.  She  owned 
she  had  gone  down  to  Brighton  with  Elinor,  and  had 
taken  care  of  her  through  her  trouble.  Isn't  that  what 
your  doctor  friend  told  you? 

NOLL.  Yes,  something  like  that 

[LucY  enters  quickly  with  a  telegram  in  her 
hand. 

LUCY.  [Apprehensively — looks  from  one  to  the 
other.]  Gerald,  this  came  just  after  we  left.  [Giving 
him  telegram.]  They've  sent  it  over  from  The  Hall. 

GERALD.  Allow  me?  [Opens  telegram,  reads  it.] 
Good  heavens! 

LUCY.  What  is  it? 

GERALD.  The  natives  have  mutinied  and  broken  down 
the  dam.  They've  had  to  send  soldiers.  They  want 
me  to  come  up  to  town  and  consult. 

LUCY.  Of  course  you'll  go. 

GERALD.  Yes;  I  must  go  up  this  evening. 

LUCY.  No,  we'd  better  go  at  once.  I've  been  so 
uneasy  about  baby  all  the  morning.  [To  NOLL.]  I 
left  her  in  London  with  a  bad  cold.  Gerald,  I  feel 
sure  she's  worse. 

GERALD.  Oh,  nurse  would  have  telegraphed. 

LUCY.  No;  she's  so  careless.  I'm  positive  she's 
worse.  Let  me  see  your  telegram. 

[He  gives  her  telegram. 

NOLL.  Pretty  bad  news,  eh,  old  man?  Does  it  mean 
your  going  out  again  ? 

GERALD.  I'm  afraid  it  may. 

LUCY.  [Having  read  telegram.]  You  see,  they  say: 
"Come  up  as  soon  as  possible."  [Giving  him  telegram. 

GERALD.  We  can't  get  up  till  after  office  hours. 


THE   LIE  91 

LUCY.  [Glancing  at  watch  on  Tier  wrist.]  Yes,  if  we 
go  at  once,  we  can  just  catch  the  one-twenty  at  the 
junction. 

GERALD.  We  must  stay  to  lunch  now. 

LUCY.  No — I'm  frightfully  anxious  about  Lucy.  If 
anything  happened  to  her,  you'd  never  forgive  your- 
self. We  must  go!  Tell  them  to  have  the  motor 
ready.  [Trying  to  get  him  off. 

GERALD.  [Looking  at  telegram.]  It  looks  pretty  bad. 
Perhaps  I'd  better  get  up  at  once. 

LUCY.  Make  haste !    There  isn't  a  moment [Exit 

Gerald  at  window.     To  NOLL.]   I'm  sure  my  baby  is 

worse — I've  had  a  presentiment  all  the  morning 

[ELINOR   enters. 

ELINOR.  I'm  afraid  lunch  will  be  late.  I  wish 
Grandy  wouldn't  interfere  in  the  kitchen 

LUCY.  Nell,  Gerald  has  had  a  telegram  from  the 
office.  There  has  been  a  mutiny — they've  broken  down 
the  dam — Gerald  has  to  go  to  town  at  once. 

ELINOR.  But  you'll  stay  to  lunch? 

LUCY.  We  can't.    And  I'm  sure  Lucy  is  worse — I'll 

go  and  hurry  Gerald  with  the  motor 

[Exit  at  window. 

ELINOR.  Lucy  seems  very  anxious  to  get  away  from 
us. 

NOLL.  Yes.  I  don't  wonder!  [ELINOR  looks  sur- 
prised. He  comes  to  her.]  Miss  Shale,  I  don't  know 
how  to  tell  you,  but  I've  got  to ! 

ELINOR.  What? 

NOLL.  I've  been  the  means  of  doing  you  the  greatest 
wrong — [She  looks  at  him] — the  greatest  wrong  in  this 
world.  I  didn't  know  it — you  may  be  sure  of  that.  I 
must  have  been  a  clumsy  fool. 


92  THE    LIE 

ELINOR.  Tell  me. 

NOLL.  You  don't  remember  meeting  me  at  Brighton 
Station  five  years  ago? 

ELINOR.    I  never  met  you  at  Brighton. 

NOLL.  I  was  with  Doctor  Denby  Rodd.  You  didn't 
notice  me.  He  saw  you  into  your  train 

ELINOR.  Yes,  I  remember. 

NOLL.  After  you'd  gone,  he  told  me  your  sister's 
story. 

ELINOR.  He  told  you? 

NOLL.  Yes.  He  did  it  quite  carelessly — without 
thinking.  He  couldn't  have  supposed  we  should  ever 
meet.  But  he  told  me. 

ELINOR.  Then  you've  known  all  along? 

NOLL.  Yes.  I  recognized  you  that  first  day  we  met 
at  the  Abbey.  Gerald  saw  that  I  did — he  questioned 
me  and  got  out  of  me  what  Rodd  had  told  me. 

ELINOR.  Then  Gerald  has  known  all  along  about 
Lucy? 

NOLL.  No.    There's  the  horrible,  horrible  mistake. 

ELINOR.  Mistake? 

NOLL.  Gerald  got  the  impression  it  was  you. 

ELINOR.  That  it  was  I?  You  allowed  him  to  think 
that? 

NOLL.  No,  no!  How  can  you  think  that?  I  spoke 
vaguely — I  didn't  mention  which  sister.  I've  only  just 
found  out  that  he  thinks  it  was  you. 

ELINOR.  Then  that's  why  he  went  away.  Now  I 
understand.  But  why  didn't  you  put  him  right? 

NOLL.  I  didn't  know  he  thought  it  was  you.  I  saw 
he  took  it  very  much  to  heart;  but  I  thought  it  was 
because  of  his  attachment  for  your  sister.  When  he 
married  her,  I  thought  he  had  forgiven  her. 


THE   LIE  93 

ELINOR.  [Has  been  crushed  by  the  revelation.] 
I  see.  [Suddenly.]  But  why  didn't  Lucy  put  him 
right?  He  must  have  spoken  to  her  about  it. 

NOLL.  Oh,  yes!  He  spoke  to  her  that  same  after- 
noon, and  she  told  him  it  was  your  child. 

ELINOR.  She  told  him ?    Say  that  again! 

NOLL.  She  told  him  it  was  your  child. 

ELINOR.  She  didn't!    She  couldn't! 

NOLL.  And  that  she  had  gone  down  to  Brighton 

ELINOR.  No 

NOLL.  To  see  you  through  your  trouble. 

ELINOR.  She  didn't!  She  couldn't!  She  didn't! 
She  couldn't! 

NOLL.  She  could — and  she  did! 

ELINOR.  No !    No !    Lucy !    She No,  no,  no,  no ! 

It  isn't  possible!    It  isn't  true! 

NOLL.  Gerald  told  me  so  just  now.  Ask  her  your- 
self. 

ELINOR.  [Very  quiet.]  Of  course!  Of  course!  It's 
all  plain.  Her  getting  to  Egypt,  her  staying  away 

from  me,  her  presents [With  a  sudden  frantic 

rage.]    Where    is   she?      [Rushing    toward    window.] 
Where  is  she? 

NOLL.  [Stopping  her.]  Stay !    Think  a  moment. 

ELINOR.  [Struggling  to  get  past  him.]  Where  is  she? 
Where  is  she?  Where  is  she? 

NOLL.  Stay!  Think!  Just  for  a  moment.  There's 
another  side.  Gerald 

ELINOR.  She  shall  tell  him  the  truth  before  me.  I'll 
make  her! 

NOLL.  Think  what  that  will  mean  to  him  just  now. 
I  could  hardly  keep  from  telling  him  myself.  I  will 
tell  him  if  you  wish. 


94  THE    LIE 

ELINOR.  No !    She  shall  tell  him ! 

NOLL.  But  not  now.    For  Heaven's  sake Think ! 

Gerald! 

ELINOR.  But  she  shan't  escape! 

NOLL.  She  shan't  escape.    I'll  take  care  of  that. 

ELINOR.  No,  I'll  take  care  of  that!  Where  is  she? 
Where  is  she? 

NOLL.  Control  yourself. 

ELINOR.  I  have  controlled  myself 

NOLL.  Bear  it  a  little  longer 

ELINOR.  I  can't — I  can't 

NOLL.  Yes;  think!  The  moment  Gerald  knows,  it 
will  break  him  up.  There'll  be  a  scandal — perhaps  a 
separation.  Is  that  what  you  want?  Can't  we  spare 
him? 

ELINOR.  But  she  shan't  escape. 

NOLL.  She  won't — she  isn't.  By  God,  she  shall  pay 
for  it!  But  let  her  get  away  now — say  Good-bye  to 
her  quite  calmly. 

ELINOR.  I  can't  do  that 

[GERALD'S  voice  heard  off  stage:  All  right — 
I'll  say  Good-bye  for  you. 

NOLL.  Hush!  Gerald!  Sit  down!  Keep  quiet! 
Let  them  get  away  now! 

GERALD.  [Comes  hurriedly  up  to  window.]  We 
haven't  a  moment.  Lucy  says  if  the  child  is  all  right 
she'll  come  again  soon. 

ELINOR.  Yes,  tell  her  to  come  soon. 

[NoLL  warns  her  with  a  look. 

GERALD.  If  all's  well,  I'll  send  her  to-morrow.  Good- 
bye. Excuse  our  running  away.  Good-bye  Noll. 

[Exit  from  window  L. 

NOLL.  Good-bye. 


THE    LIE  95 

ELINOR.  [C ailing  after  him.]  Tell  her  to  come  to- 
morrow. 

GERALD.  [Off  stage.]  Good-bye. 

ELINOR.  [At  window.     Calls.]   To-morrow!     Look! 

She's  blowing  me  a  kiss !     She  shan't  go 

[Starting  off. 
[NoLL  snatches  her  hand  and  draws  her  into 

the  room. 

NOLL.  Control  yourself! 

.    ELINOR.  She  blew  me  a  kiss !     She  blew  me  a  kiss ! 
Judas  sister!    Judas  sister!    Judas  sister! 

CURTAIN 

'  [Ten  days  pass  between  Acts  III  and  IV.] 


ACT  IV 

SCENE:  The  same.  About  four  on  an  afternoon  in 
November.  Outside  the  windows  twilight  darken- 
ing on  the  wintry  landscape  and  on  the  Abbey. 
Inside,  a  bright  fire.  Discover  ELINOR  seated  over 
fire.  GIBBARD  draws  curtains  and  lights  lamps. 

ELINOR.  Haven't  Mrs.  Callard  and  Master  Callard 
come  in  yetf 

GIBBARD.  No,  miss.  Will  Mrs.  Callard  and  the  young 
gentleman  be  staying  on? 

ELINOR.  Yes.    Why  do  you  ask? 

GIBBARD.  Before  Sir  Robert  went  up  to  London  he 
said  they'd  have  to  pack  up  and  go. 

ELINOR.  They  will  be  staying  for  some  time — per- 
haps altogether.  Cook  knows  Sir  Robert  will  be  back 
for  dinner? 

GIBBARD.  Yes,  miss. 

(SiR  ROBERT  enters  in  outdoor  winter  clothes, 
with  a  handsome  fur  coat. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Well,  here  I  am — back  again.  Gibbard, 
just  see  there's  a  good  fire  in  my  room.  And  take  up 
a  whiskey-and-soda,  will  you? 

GIBBARD.  Yes,  Sir  Robert.  [Exit. 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Has  taken  off  hat  and  coat  and  put 
them  on  chair.]  You  got  my  telegram? 

06 


THE    LIE  97 

ELINOR.  Yes.  I  thought  you  were  staying  on  with 
Mr.  Forster  and  Lucy? 

SIR  ROBERT.  No.  They've  come  down  to  the  Hall 
with  me  this  morning.  The  Government  have  given 
Gerald  the  entire  control  of  the  irrigation  works.  He 
accepted  it  last  night,  and  he  has  to  hurry  out  there 
as  soon  as  possible. 

ELINOR.  Is  Lucy  going  with  him? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes;  of  course.  So  we  shall  lose  her 
again.  And  just  as  I  thought  she  was  going  to  settle 
down  with  us,  and  be  a  comfort  to  my  few  remaining 
years.  They're  leaving  the  old  limousine  motor,  and  I 
believe  Lucy  means  to  have  it  thoroughly  done  up 
for  us. 

ELINOR.  They  came  down  to  the  Hall  with  you? 

Sm  ROBERT.  Yes;  we  got  down  to  lunch.  Lucy  mo- 
tored me  to  the  level  crossing,  and  I  walked  up. 

ELINOR.  Lucy  came  with  you  to  the  level  crossing, 
and  she  didn't  come  on  here? 

SIR  ROBERT.  We  happened  to  meet  Mrs.  Callard 
and  her  brat,  so  Lucy  put  me  down  and  took  them 
into  Waventry. 

ELINOR.  Lucy  took  Mrs.  Callard  and  Dick  to  Wa- 
ventry— what  for? 

SIR  ROBERT.  I'd  been  telling  her  that  you'd  had  them 
staying  here  for  the  last  fortnight,  turning  the  whole 
house  upside  down.  Lucy  thinks  about  it  as  I  do. 

ELINOR.  What  does  she  think? 

SIR  ROBERT.  She  can't  think  why  on  earth  you  should 
have  a  parcel  of  Brighton  lodging-house  people  hang- 
ing about  the  place — she's  going  to  talk  to  you 
about  it. 

ELINOR.  Then  she's  coming  back  here? 


98  THE    LIE 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes.  She  says  Gerald  may  not  have 
time  to  come  over  to  say  Good-bye  so  she  wants  to  take 
us  and  Dibdin  over  to  dinner  to-night  at  the  Hall.  I 
suppose  you'll  go? 

ELINOR.  I'll  tell  her  when  she  comes. 

SIR  ROBERT.  What's  the  reason  you're  treating  her 
so.  badly? 

ELINOR.  Am  I  treating  her  badly? 

SIR  ROBERT.  She  says  she  has  written  you  three 
nice  sisterly  letters,  and  you  haven't  sent  her  a  word 
in  reply. 

ELINOR.  Yes,  that  is  so. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Then  I  don't  wonder  she  doesn't  seem 
very  anxious  to  meet  you. 

ELINOR.  No,  I  don't  wonder. 

SIR  ROBERT.  When  she  does  come,  I  hope  you'll  re- 
ceive her  as  a  sister  and  remember  all  she  has  done  for 
us,  and  show  your  gratitude  as  I  do —  Damn  it !  I 
forgot  the  champagne.  Gerald  has  just  got  in  twenty 
dozen  of  Pommery  for  Egypt.  I  believe  he  meant  to 
give  me  a  couple  of  cases.  And  I  forgot  to  remind 
him. 

ELINOR.  Then  he's  not  coming  over  here? 

SIR  ROBERT.  He  said  he'd  try  to  run  over  for  a  few 
minutes;  but  he  wasn't  sure. 

ELINOR.  But  Lucy  is  coming? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes;  and  I  hope  you'll  follow  her  ad- 
vice about  Mrs.  Callard  and  the  brat.  Because  I've 
made  up  my  mind  they  don't  stay  in  my  house  any 
longer. 

ELINOR.  This  isn't  your  house.  Mr.  Dibdin  has  a 
lease  of  it  from  you  with  the  Abbey.  And  you  know 
if  I  ask  him  he'll  let  Mrs.  Callard  and  Dick  stay  here 


THE   LIE  99 

as  long  as  I  please.     And  I  shall  ask  him — the  first 
time  I  see  him. 

SIR  ROBERT.  [Nonplussed.]  Oh!  [Takes  up  his  hat.] 
Oh!  [Takes  up  his  coat.]  Oh,  very  well! 

[GIBBARD  shows  in  NOLL.    Enter  NOLL.    Exit 
GIBBARD. 

NOLL.  Well,  Sir  Robert,  back  from  London?  [To 
ELINOR.]  How  d'ye  do?  [Shaking  hands. 

ELINOR.  How  d'ye  do? 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes;  Gerald  and  Lucy  came  down  with 
me  to  the  Hall. 

NOLL.  I  had  a  letter  from  Gerald  this  morning.  He 
tells  me  the  Government  are  going  to  do  just  what  he 
wants. 

SIR  ROBERT.  Yes.  I  advised  him  to  stand  up  to 
them.  "Don't  stand  any  nonsense,"  I  said.  "Stand  up 
to  them."  And  he  did — he  may  be  thankful  I  was 
with  him  at  the  critical  moment.  [Exit. 

NOLL.  So  our  little  lady  sister  has  come  to  see  us? 
Does  she  know  you've  found  her  out? 

ELINOR.  No.  [Taking  letter  out  of  pocket.]  Here's 
her  last  letter  to  me.  [Giving  it  to  him.]  She  couldn't 
have  written  that  if  she  thought  I  knew. 

NOLL.  You  haven't  written  to  her? 

ELINOR.  No.  I  can't  do  it  in  a  letter.  I  must  have 
her  face  to  face.  I  would  have  gone  up,  but  I  thought 
of  Gerald.  I  want  to  spare  him  as  long  as  I  can. 

NOLL.  You'll  have  to  tell  Gerald,  I  suppose? 

ELINOR.  No.  She'll  have  to  tell  him — in  my  pres- 
ence. How  can  I  let  him  think  that  I Read  what 

she  says  there. 

NOLL.  [Beading  from  letter.]  "I  cannot  imagine 
why  you  haven't  answered  my  letters.  I  suppose  you 


100  THE    LIE 

are  still  jealous.  I  can  only  tell  you  once  more  that 
before  I  married  Gerald,  I  asked  him  again  and  again : 
'You  are  sure  I  am  not  taking  you  from  Elinor?'  You 
can  believe  me  or  not,  as  you  please.  But  however 
unkind  and  ungrateful  you  are  to  me,  I  shall  still  re- 
member my  duty  to  you  as  a  sister,  and  do  all  I  can  to 
make  you  happy."  Very,  very  pretty!  Quite  charm- 
ing! [Giving  letter  back  to  ELINOR.]  Where  is  she 
now? 

ELINOR.  She  has  taken  Dick  and  Callard  to  "Wa- 
ventry.  Grandy  says  she  is  going  to  ask  me  to  send 
Dick  away;  but  I  won't!  Grandy  is  always  threaten- 
ing to  turn  him  and  Mrs.  Callard  out.  This  is  your 
house.  You  won't  ask  me  to  send  Dick  away? 

NOLL.  Certainly  not — if  you  wish  to  keep  him.  But 
— mightn't  it  be  better? 

ELINOR.  Better  to  send  him  away? 

NOLL.  You're  very  fond  of  the  little  Nipper? 

ELINOR.  I  can't  tell  you.  I've  never  had  anything 
all  my  own  to  love.  Lucy  took  Gerald  away  from  me, 
just  as  I  had  won  him.  Then  Dick  came.  He  was  the 
only  thing  near  to  me.  He  filled  up  the  great  hole 
there  was  in  my  heart.  I  could  almost  forgive  Lucy, 
because  when  she  took  Gerald  from  me  she  gave  me 
Dick. 

NOLL.  Not  much  credit  to  her  for  that!  She  can't 
claim  the  boy  herself. 

ELINOR.  [Triumphantly.]  No;  that's  it!  She's  going 
away  from  England.  She  can't  take  him.  She'll  be 
obliged  to  leave  him  with  me.  I  shall  bring  him  up, 
and  have  him  all  to  myself.  That's  all  I've  got  to  live 
for  now. 

NOLL.  You've  thought  it  all  over,  I  suppose? 


THE    LIE  101 

ELINOR.  Thought  what  over?  You  don't  wish  me  to 
send  him  away? 

NOLL.  No.    But  I  ought  to  tell  you 

ELINOR.  What? 

NOLL.  I'm  sure  Mrs.  Callard  is  discretion  itself.  But 
a  mother's  is  a  very  difficult  role  to  play.  Mrs.  Cal- 
lard doesn't  look  like  the  Nipper's  mother.  She  doesn't 
talk  and  act  like  the  Nipper's  mother.  The  woman  she 
lodged  with  at  Waventry  has  scented  it  out,  and  started 
a  good  deal  of  gossip. 

ELINOR.  Gossip?    What  gossip? 

NOLL.  That  the  Nipper  isn't  Mrs.  Callard's  child. 
And  people  are  saying 

ELINOR.  People  are  saying What  are  people 

saying?  Tell  me. 

NOLL.  You've  had  the  boy  here  constantly.  You've 
shown  that  you're  passionately  attached  to  him.  And 
now  you've  brought  him  to  live  with  you. 

ELINOR.  They're  not  saying  that  I ? 

NOLL.  It's  best  you  should  know 

ELINOR.  [After  a  long  pause.]  Thank  you.  Is  it 
much  talked  of? 

NOLL.  You  know  what  a  hotbed  of  gossip  this  little 
place  is.  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  send  them  away? 

ELINOR.  No.  I've  nobody  but  Dick.  I  won't  give 
him  up.  I've  got  him  now — tight — he  loves  me.  He's 
all  I  have.  I'll  keep  him.  Let  them  say  what  they 
choose. 

NOLL.  If  you  feel  like  that,  you're  right  to  keep  him. 
But  have  you  counted  the  cost?  You  know  what  it 
will  mean  in  a  small  place  like  this. 

ELINOR.  I  don't  care.  I  won't  give  him  up.  No! 
No!  No!  Whatever  they  say [Suddenly.] 


102  THE    LIE 

That's  why  Mrs.  Farebrother  cut  me  yesterday.    I  sup- 
pose everybody  will  cut  me. 

NOLL.  It  will  be  terribly  difficult  for  you.  Won't 
you  let  me  make  it  easy? 

ELINOR.  What  can  you  do? 

NOLL.  I  have  the  toughest  skin.  I  don't  care  a  snap 
of  the  finger  for  public  opinion.  Let  me  give  you  my 
name.  It  need  go  no  further  than  that — unless  you 
wish.  Let  me  try  to  make  up  for  having  brought  this 
on  you.  [She  makes  a  gesture  of  protest.]  Yes,  it 
was  my  silly,  clumsy  tongue  that  put  Gerald  on  the 
wrong  track.  Let  me  get  it  off  my  conscience.  Come 
to  me.  My  name  would  shelter  you  and  the  boy.  I'm 
fond  of  the  little  Nipper,  too.  Nobody  dared  say  a 
word  then;  or,  if  they  did,  it  wouldn't  matter.  Never 
mind  if  you  haven't  any  love  to  give  to  me  now. 
You'll  come  to  me  at  last — I  think  you  will — I  know 
you  will.  But  if  you  can't — I'll  wait  till  you  do.  And 
I  can  make  it  all  so  easy  for  you.  Come  to  me!  Be 
my  wife! 

ELINOR.  Oh,  you  are  kind — but  I  feel  it  would  be  a 
false  position  for  me.  And  it  would  be  like  cheating 
you. 

NOLL.  I  love  being  cheated.  Everybody  cheats  me. 
It's  the  only  fun  I  get  out  of  life.  And  you  won't 
cheat  me  very  long.  I'll  risk  it.  Just  try  it. 

ELINOR.  Oh!    I  wish  I  could! 

[Lucr  stands  at  the  door  in  outdoor  clothes. 
NOLL  glances  from  one  to  the  other. 
ELINOR'S  face  hardens. 

NOLL.  How  d'ye  do?  [Shaking  hands. 

LUCY.  How  d'ye  do?  [Moving  toward  ELINOR, 
showing  a  furtive  fright  which  she  tries  to  hide  under 


"  You'll  come  to  me  at  last — I  think  you 
will — I  know  you  will." 


THE    LIE  103 

a  careless  manner.]  You  don't  seem  very  pleased  to 
see  me,  Nell.  [Making  as  if  to  embrace  her.  ELINOR 
flashes  with  anger,  and  moves  away.]  Aren't  you  go- 
ing to  speak  to  me? 

ELINOR.  Yes,  by  and  by. 

[LucY  turns  to  NOLL,  shrugs  her  shoulders 
with  an  aggrieved  air. 

NOLL.  Gerald  hasn't  come  over  with  you? 

LUCY.  No;  he's  terribly  rushed  to  get  away.  He 
may  not  have  time  to  come  over.  So  I  told  him  I 
should  bring  you  and  Grandy  and  Nell  back  with  me  to 
dinner  at  the  Hall.  You'll  come? 

NOLL.  I'll  be  ready  whenever  you  are.  [Exit. 

[Lucr  steals  a  glance  at  ELINOR.      ELINOR 
stands  speechless,  in  a  white  rage. 

LUCY.  What's  the  matter?  What  have  I  done  now? 
[A  little  jeering  laugh  from  ELINOR.]  Really,  Nell, 
you  are  impossible !  I've  done  everything  in  the  world 
to  make  you  happy.  On  my  way  here  I  made  Gerald 
promise  to  have  the  limousine  done  up  as  a  present 

for  you [Another  jeering  laugh  from  ELINOR.] 

Oh,  well,  if  you  choose  to  fling  all  my  kindness  back 
in  my  face,  you  must  do  so.  [Changes  her  tone.] 
There's  another  thing  perhaps  you  won't  like.  My 
maid  is  leaving  me,  so  I'm  going  to  take  Mrs.  Callard 
out  with  me  to  Egypt.  I  met  her  and  Dick  this  after- 
noon at  the  level  crossing  and  took  them  to  Waventry 
with  me.  I've  arranged  everything  with  her. 

ELINOR.  What  have  you  arranged? 

LUCY.  I'm  sending  over  for  Dick  and  her  in  the 
morning  to  take  them  up  to  London  with  us.  I  told 
her  to  go  and  get  everything  packed  at  once. 

ELINOR.  [Hard,   white,    bitter,   suppressing   herself 


104  THE    LIE 

with  great  effort.]  You're  going  to  take  Dick  to 
Egypt? 

LUCY.  Yes.  I've  wanted  to  have  him  with  me  for  a 
long  time,  only  I  didn't  know  how  to  manage  it  with- 
out rousing  Gerald's  suspicions.  I  told  him  we  knew 
the  woman  at  Brighton.  [ELINOR  laughs.]  What's 
the  matter? 

ELINOR.  Nothing.  You  told  him  we  knew  the  woman 
at  Brighton Go  on. 

LUCY.  And  that  she'd  make  a  good  maid  for  me,  and 
be  just  the  sort  of  useful  person  we  want  over  there. 

ELINOR.  Yes,  yes — and  that  Dick  would  come  with 
her? 

LUCY.  I  said  of  course  she'd  bring  her  boy. 

ELINOR.  Of  course!  Of  course!  And  what  did  he 
say? 

LUCY.  He  made  no  objection.  In  fact,  he  seemed 
to  be  pleased. 

ELINOR.  Pleased?    Why  should  he  be  pleased? 

LUCY.  He  thought  it  would  settle  her  and  make  her 
comfortable.  So  it  has  all  turned  out  quite  fortu- 
nately. 

ELINOR.  So  it's  all  settled? 

LUCY.  Quite!  I'm  sorry  if  you  don't  like  it;  but 
really  I've  done  enough  to  please  you,  so  this  time  I 
shall  please  myself. 

ELINOR.  You've  quite  made  up  your  mind  to  take 
Dick  to  Egypt? 

LUCY.  Yes.  Baby  isn't  very  strong,  and  I  may  have 
to  send  her  back  to  England.  And  I  really  want  to 
have  Dick  with  me.  He's  just  the  age  to  make  a  nice 
companion. 


THE    LIE  105 

ELINOR.  Yes — —  You've  quite  made  up  your  mind 
to  take  him  from  me? 

LUCY.  You  mustn't  look  at  it  in  that  light.  You've 
been  very  kind  to  him;  but  I  want  him  to  be  fondest 
of  me.  And  you  have  a  little  stolen  him  from  me. 

ELINOR.  Stolen!    Ha!    Stolen! 

LUCY.  Well,  haven't  you?  He  cares  more  for  you 
than  he  does  for  me.  And,  after  all,  I  am  his  mother. 

ELINOR.  You've  quite  made  up  your  mind  to  take 
him? 

LUCY.  Yes;  quite!  [ELINOR  laughs  a  terrible  jeer- 
ing laugh.'}  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Nell?  Really 
I  don't  understand  you.  I  give  you  up. 

ELINOR.  Ah!  You  give  me  up,  do  you?  You  give 
me  up!  And  you  take  Dick? 

LUCY.  [Impatiently.']  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  Don't  I 
tell  you — yes!  And  that  settles  the  matter.  [With  a 
sudden  fright  and  a  changed  tone.]  Of  course,  I  trust 
you  to  say  nothing  to  Gerald. 

ELINOR.  Ah !    You  trust  to  me !    You  trust  to  me ! 

LUCY.  [Terribly  frightened.]  You  gave  me  your 
sacred  promise.  You  won't  dare  to  break  it. 

ELINOR.  Won't  I?    Won't  I? 

LUCY.  Nell,  you  won't  play  me  such  a  dirty  trick? 

ELINOR.  Dirty  trick?  Is  it  anything  to  the  dirty 
trick  you've  played  me  all  these  years? 

[Leaps   at  her,  seizes  her  with   both  hands, 
shaking  her. 

LUCY.  Nell!  Nell!  You'll  choke  me!  Let  me  go! 
[ELINOR  throws  her  on  to  chair,  stands  over  her.~\ 
You  know? 

ELINOR.  Yes.  He  loved  me.  He  told  me  so  that 
day.  But  you  stole  him  away  from  me — you  thief! 


106  THE    LIE 

You  stole  him,  and  you  stole  his  child  from  me.  Never 
lie  by  his  side,  never  go  to  him  without  thinking  you're 
in  my  place.  Your  baby,  your  Lucy  is  mine  by  rights 
— every  bone,  every  morsel  of  her!  Never  look  at  her, 
never  kiss  her  without  thinking  that.  You  robbed  me 
of  her,  you  cheated  me  out  of  her  and  him,  as  you 
cheated  me  out  of  everything  else.  I've  given  up  to 
you  all  my  life  long — everything — I  let  you  go  to 
London  at  first,  and  stayed  down  here  to  drudge. 
When  you  came  to  me  in  your  trouble,  I  put  by  every- 
thing to  save  you — you  might  have  been  anything, 
anywhere — on  the  streets — if  I  hadn't  saved  you.  I 
gave  him  up  for  you.  And  when  he  came  to  me  again, 
and  I'd  won  him  again,  you  put  your  shame  on  me, 
you  ruined  me  in  his  eyes,  and  you  stole  him  from  me — 
you  thief,  you  thief,  you  thief,  you  thief! 

[Seizing  her  again  on  the  chair. 

LUCY.  Nell!    Nell! 

ELINOR.  And  now  you'd  rob  me  of  my  boy.  For  he 
is  mine.  I've  watched  over  him  and  nursed  him  and 
made  him  love  me.  You  cared  nothing  for  him  till  you 
saw  he  loved  me  most,  and  now  you'd  rob  me  of  him. 

LUCY.  No — no — no !    He  shall  stay  with  you. 

ELINOR.  Yes.  I'll  take  care  of  that!  I  won't  part 
from  him.  I've  never  had  anything  all  my  own  but 
him,  and  you  shan't  take  him  from  me. 

LUCY.  I  won't  try.  You  won't  tell  Gerald?  You 
won't  T 

ELINOR.  No;  you  shall  tell  him  yourself.  We'll  go 
over  to  him.  Come!  Take  me  to  him. 

[Seizing  her,  dragging  her  toward  door. 

LUCY.  No — Nell,  no!  [Holding  her  back. 

[A  tap  at  the  door.     NOLL  enters. 


THE    LIE  107 

NOLL.  I  beg  pardon.  Gerald  is  over  at  the  Abbey. 
He  had  half  an  hour,  so  he  just  ran  over  to  say  "Good- 
bye" to  me.  He's  coming  here  in  a  few  minutes. 

ELINOR.  We're  waiting  for  him. 

LUCY.  No,  Mr.  Dibdin.  Nell  and  I  will  come  over 
to  the  Abbey  as  soon  as  we've  finished. 

[With  an  imploring  look  at  ELINOR. 

ELINOR.  Mr.  Dibdin  knows  what  we  are  talking 
about. 

LUCY.  Mr.  Dibdin  knows? 

ELINOR.  Yes.  He  is  a  friend  of  Dr.  Denby  Rodd. 
Mr.  Dibdin  has  known  about  you  all  through.  He 
knows  what  you  told  Gerald  about  me. 

LUCY.  [To    NOLL.]  You   know ?     You   haven't 

told  Gerald? 

NOLL.  No;  Gerald  knows  nothing — at  present. 

LUCY.  You  won't  tell  him?  [Turning  to  ELINOR.] 
Nell,  you  won't  tell  Gerald?  Nell,  I'm  at  your  mercy — 
don't  break  up  my  home — his  home.  Oh,  you  won't  be 
so  cruel!  Think  what  it  will  be — Mr.  Dibdin,  help  me 
persuade  her — for  Gerald's  sake — help  me — oh!  Very 
well !  Ruin  me  if  you  please ;  but  you'll  ruin  him  too. 
You'll  ruin  all  his  work — you'll  have  that  to  remember 
all  your  life — Mr.  Dibdin,  persuade  her — for  Gerald's 
sake!  Nell! 

ELINOR.  What  am  I  to  do? 

NOLL.  You  must  decide.  If  you  could  spare  Gerald 
from  knowing  just  now — he  has  a  pretty  stiff  job  in 
front  of  him  out  there — he'll  need  all  his  nerve  and 
energy  for  it — if  you  could  spare  him  for  the  time — 
till  that's  over. 

LUCY.  Nell,  have  mercy ! 


108  THE    LIE 

NOLL.  I  think  you  might  say  nothing  till  he  gets 
through  this  business — won't  you? 

ELINOR.  [After  a  long  evident  struggle.]  Very  well. 
He  shall  not  know  it  through  me. 

LUCY.  Thanks,  thanks,  Nell — thanks  with  all  my 
heart!  [Trying  to  take  her  hand. 

ELINOR.  [Eepulsing  her.]  I'm  not  doing  it  for  you. 
I'm  doing  it  for  him  and  his  work. 

NOLL.  Shall  I  fetch  him  to  say  "Good-bye"? 

Lucr.  Not  for  a  few  minutes.  I  want  to  talk  to 
Nell. 

ELINOR.  I've  nothing  to  say  to  you.    Bring  Kim  over. 

LUCY.  Not  yet — please  net  yet — not  for  a  few  min- 
utes. 

NOLL.  Very  well.  [Exit. 

LUCY.  Oh,  Nell — oh,  Nell — I  can't  bear  it !  Forgive 
me — say  you  forgive  me ! 

ELINOR.  Forgive  you?  What's  the  use  of  saying 
that?  Will  that  give  me  back  the  last  five  years?  Will 
that  give  me  a  child  to  bear  to  him?  Will  that  give 
me  the  home  and  the  husband  that  you've  stolen  from 
me? 

LUCY.  Nell,  I  never  meant  to  do  it!  Let  me  tell 
you [ELINOR  laughs. 

ELINOR.  You  have  told  me — [Mocking] — "You're 
quite  sure  I'm  not  taking  you  from  Elinor?" — "I 
pressed  him  again  and  again" — "In  any  case,  I  shall 
never  marry  your  sister" — "Oh,  Nell,  you  are  splendid ! 
I  shall  never  forget  your  kindness!  Never!  And  if 

ever  I  get  a  chance  to  repay  you Well,  you 

have  repaid  me!  We'll  cry  quits!  Now  go!  I  never 
wish  to  see  you  again.  Go ! 

LUCY.  No,  no,  I  can't !    Oh,  I've  been  a  cruel,  selfish 


THE    LIE  109 

beast  to  you,  and  you've  been  the  best  and  truest  friend 
and  sister  that  ever  a  woman  had.  I  see  it  now.  I 
hate  myself.  I  shall  never  have  a  moment's  peace 
unless  you  say  you  forgive  me! 

ELINOR.  I  can't!  I'm  not  made  like  that.  I  can't 
say  what  I  don't  feel !  Go  away  now,  and  when  I  feel 
that  I  can  really  forgive  you  from  my  heart,  I'll  write 
to  you  or  come  to  you. 

LUCY.  No,  no;  forgive  me  now!  Listen,  Nell,  I  do 
mean  this :  I'll  try  to  make  Gerald  a  better  wife  from 
this  hour.  I'll  do  all  in  my  power  to  win  his  love; 
and  I  think  I  can — I'll  slave  to  win  him,  and  when  I'm 
sure  of  him,  I'll  tell  him  all  the  truth,  so  that  he  may 
not  think  ill  of  you.  Forgive  me,  Nell!  [A  pause. 

ELINOR.  You  mean  that?     Swear  you'll  tell  him. 

LUCY.  I. swear  I'll  tell  him.  Say  you  forgive  me, 
Nell. 

ELINOR.  Come  to  me  or  write  to  me  when  you  have 
told  him,  and  I'll  forgive  you.  Yes,  I'll  forgive  you. 

[DiCK  enters. 

DICK.  Mummy  says  she's  going  to  take  me  away  with 
the  other  Miss  Shale.  I  shan't  go.  [To  LUCY.]  I'm 
not  going  with  you.  I'm  going  to  stay  with  my  own 
Miss  Shale. 

LUCY.  Yes,  darling — so  you  shall.  But  you'll  give 
me  a  good  long  kiss  if  I  let  you  stay,  won't  you? 

DICK.  Oh,  very  well!  [LucY  snatches  him  to  her, 
kisses  him  again  and  again.  He  gets  restless.]  I  don't 
want  you  to  kiss  me  all  that. 

LUCY.  But  you  love  me  a  little,  don't  you,  darling? 

ELINOR.  Yes,  Dick.    Love  her. 

DICK.  Oh,  very  well — if  you  tell  me  to. 


110        .  THE    LIE 

LUCY.  Give  me  just  one  more  kiss,  because  I'm 
going  away  ever  so  far  and  ever  so  long. 

[LucY  draws  him  to  her  and  kisses  him  again. 
NOLL  enters. 

NOLL.  Gerald  is  waiting  over  at  the  Abbey.  What 
are  you  going  to  do? 

ELINOR.  Lucy  has  promised  to  tell  him,  haven't  you, 
Lucy? 

LUCY.  Yes. 

NOLL.  When? 

LUCY.  When  he  gets  through  his  business — when  he 
can  bear  it.  I  will  tell  him,  indeed  I  will ! 

NOLL.  You'll  find  it  best — because  if  Gerald  doesn't 
know  when  he  comes  back  to  England,  I  shall  tell  him 
myself.  He's  got  to  know  some  day.  It  will  come 
better  from  you  than  from  me.  Shall  I  fetch  him 
now? 

LUCY.  No;  I'll  go  to  him  myself.  [Imploringly.] 
Nell! 

ELINOR.  Good-bye.  [Exit  LUCY,  crying. 

DICK.  It  will  be  jolly  living  with  you  always.  Shall 
we  live  here?  ' 

NOLL.  No,  old  man.  We're  all  going  to  live  at  the 
Abbey. 

ELINOR.  No — no 

NOLL.  You  must,  for  your  own  sake 

ELINOR.  Not  yet! 

NOLL.  Not  yet;  but  when  you  wish.  Dear,  let  me 
scrape  together  a  little  bit  of  happiness  for  you  out  of 
it  all — you  will,  won't  you? 

ELINOR.  Not  yet — oh,  I  don't  know — perhaps 

CURTAIN 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

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